


Kurse of the Erinys

by OAC_QI



Category: Star Fox Series, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Animal Transformation, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Gen, Marriage, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Redemption
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-01-03 10:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21178223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OAC_QI/pseuds/OAC_QI
Summary: The war between man and anthropos is over. For Krystal, a shattered wreck of a woman, it has only just begun. Disgraced and in exile, to be healed from her pain she must learn to relinquish her pride and hatred in exchange for love and humility. But a dark secret lurks in the past, one that may destroy not only Krystal but her family also. (Frozen Hell reimagined.)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This work is based off of the _Frozen Hell_ duology by XxSanitariumxX on Fanfiction.net, written with his permission. I originally wrote this as a one-shot back in 2013/14 on Fanfiction.net but let it stagnant for many years because I had little idea as to where I was going with it. I've spent little over a year and between two to three months rewriting the original four chapters and adding an additional fifth, and they'll be all posted at once on the FFN version of the same name. I'm posting them here in the interim until I finish chapter five. This means you'll be able to see the original beta version that my 2013/14 self wrote until I'm done, so hurry up before it disappears! (You never know with motivation.)
> 
> Special thanks to [Nail Strafer](/users/nailstrafer/) and [Rogercat](/users/rogercat/) for being gracious enough to put up with my constant requests for readovers, even if the changes were only cosmetic, and an even more especial thank you to [Tough_Girl](/users/tough_girl/) for taking me up on my bizarre request and going above and beyond in delivery. She's singlehandedly responsible for this entire rewrite. Finally, one more thank you to Sanitarium for the privilege of adapting his universe.

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

* * *

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

** _Kursed_ **

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

* * *

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

** _Blessings _ ** **— Laura Story**

* * *

**** **_The gates of hell are open night and day;_**  
**_Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:_**  
**_But to return, and view the cheerful skies,  
_ _In this the task and mighty labor lies._**

* * *

"_Raye, Raye, help me—argh! _"

"Shut _ up _, you human bitch," Krystal growled.

"_Jessica?! _" a voice shouted, distantly.

_ Crap _. Krystal’s growls intensified. _ Not _ him _ again. _

"Raye, help me, _ please _!"

"I said _ shut up _!" She clocked the woman over the head. There was a loud crunch and Jessica fell silent, collapsing where she stood. Krystal could only swear like a spacer as she forcefully dragged the woman’s unconscious body behind.

Aboard the _ Eternal Fire _, flagship of the Final Dynasty, any wrong move could cost her. The entire ship was crawling with human scum—it was almost by pure coincidence that she came across the woman undetected, found her unguarded. Krystal thought she’d make a good hostage should she have to negotiate for her freedom. Now she was starting to regret not silencing her earlier.

_ Why can’t I knock her out? _ She raged, trying again to use her telepathic reach, and failing as it stubbornly refused her. It’d be so much easier if it just _ worked _ for once when she actually needed it.

It couldn’t even tell her if there was a squad around the next corner. Knowing this ship, that was a distinct possibility. She had counted no less than sixteen groups patrolling, and that was before everything had gone haywire. 

Little did she know it was because a Cornerian supercarrier, one of their few remaining capital ships worth sneezing at, had done a point-blank hyperaccel straight into the Titan. Fortunately the ship’s trishielding and adamantium-plated armored hull tanked the hit, even with a prior EMP burst.

The first of its class, the _ Eternal Fire _ was a terror on the battlefield. Able to duel entire fleets one-on-one without any escort, its massive coilgun could oneshot battleships with relativistic missiles multiple times from across a star system before they ever got into engagement range. Scores of ships both great and small had fallen to its mighty weapon, and not even the extremely advanced Cornerian Federation could effectively fight it. After the first few engagements all Federation fleets fled if so much as a hint of the titanic vessel showed up.

However, this time it was different. Following the invasion of the Soran worlds, and the obliteration of Benomu, all Federation assets had been recalled to defend the capital. They arrived just in time to tackle the _ Eternal Fire _ and the massive escort fleet gathered there. The chaos had been brief, but it gave Krystal a chance to slip beneath the sensor-sweeps amid the ECM blanketing the battlespace and board the ship.

She had waited patiently as the Dynastic high command shattered in what looked like a coup, the woman she now held captive emerging as the winner. Then after the last Dynastic soldier had disappeared, leaving this Jessica unattended, she made her bold gamble. 

It had paid off, mostly. She didn’t take into account that human females have very high voices when panicking—or that human men responded quickly to one of their own in distress. 

_ No! The mission, it must come first, _ she thought, glancing this way and that as she came to an intersection. The lights had dimmed to emergency red and every display was blank. There came a groan and the halls creaked—the distant, thundering shocks of heavy artillery discharging sounded like hammer blows upon the bulkheads around her. For a ship this enormous (some Cornerian estimates put it at eight whole kilometers) the din was mercifully muted.

It was also getting hot, overwhelming her suit’s cooling capabilities. Such was the temperature she could _ see _ her breath fogging up her faceplate. The battle outside must be going badly for the ventilation to shut off this totally.

Wiping some sweat off her brow she chose a direction at random, hoping the translation software read the Dynastic hieroglyphics right, and set off as fast as she could. Very quickly she reached a pair of double-doors in the corridor, to her right. They were sealed. No matter. She pointed her blaster and depressed the trigger. One explosion later and she was pulling her captive through.

"Oh my God, wha—?"

Krystal fired two more shots, and the medics went down, each with a cauterized hole in their chest. On a hunch she suspected they were right where she needed to be, no thanks to the human woman. Sure enough, as she neared their fallen bodies, she could see a supine, immobile figure upon the bed, one the medic's arms lying on him.

Dropping Jessica's arm and leaving her abandoned, Krystal raced toward the bed. Knocking away the medic's arm she gently, ever-so-gently, climbed alongside Fox McCloud, her captain and beloved leader. Pressing a button, she unlocked her helmet and set off to the side, wincing as the heated air hit her full force. Wiping sodden bangs from her eyes, she reached down to caress him.

"I finally, _ finally _ have you back," she cooed. "I will never let you out of my sight again." She stroked his fur, moving a stray hair from his eyes. It didn't matter that they were closed, or that the eyes beneath would be glazed toward near-death. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cold lips.

Fox’s nervous system had been severely damaged during a dogfight midway through the war, a lucky Dynastic railgun round crippling his Arwing and nearly killing him. Because Cornerian medical technology was stretched to its limits, there had been no time to give him proper care, so the only recourse was to induce a coma to prevent further damage to his brain. In this state he was vulnerable, and the Dynasty had exploited this only two months before the battle.

Getting to him had been her sole reason for this mad and daring infiltration of the Titan. Jessica was a lucky accident. "It will be all right,” Krystal murmured. “We will make you better again, and together we will destroy the human Dynasty.”

"The hour hath struck."

Her eyes widened and she sat up quickly. That was not Fox. Panning her blaster, she yelled: "Who's there?"

"The judge."

"That tells me nothing! Show yourself now." She squeezed off a shot, and the yellow plasma raced across the room with a sizzling hiss and _ boom _as the gunshot reverberated. It briefly lit up the room before slamming into the far wall, melting a hole in the durasteel and threw off showers of twinkling metal everywhere.

"So be it."

Her ears swiveled—it was coming from the door. Krystal swung her head and weapon. Walking from the ruined entrance was a tall, broad-shouldered figure, with a perceptible air of authority emanating from him. The shadows cast by the emergency lighting obscured his face but he moved with deliberate purpose.

Krystal pointed her gun. "St—Stay back!" she barked, "or I will shoot!"

There was no answer. So she fired again. The plasma raced towards the man with astonishing speed—and winked out of existence. But just before it vanished the harsh yellow light revealed who he was.

Her mouth dropped. "No! Not one of _ you _ again!"

Inexplicably it was Raye coming toward her, preternaturally calm for a man who swore he’d kill her last they met. If that was even the same _ man _ . She had met two of them thus far—one who she’d tortured to death by rooting through his mind for everything he had known; and the other who appeared only a day later. That one she later learned was a lackey of that damned Director, who wanted to _ negotiate peace! _ As if _ that _ would ever happen!

"_How many times will I have to deal with you?! _" she screamed, jumping off the bed and pointing her weapon at him. He did not relent his slow pace. So she fired—held down the trigger until the blaster grew so hot she had to throw it away to avoid burning her hands. Each and every bolt that arced and whizzed toward Raye did nothing except to disappear, instantaneously, with no hint as to where they went.

Krystal, if at all possible, grew more demented. "_Just die you f*#%er! How many times do I have to kill you! _"

Raye’s features were perfectly sculpted, with no hint of battle scarring or wounds, like a human god. His nose was most prominent—aquiline, almost like a hook. His black hair was not messy or greasy but done with care, cut to military precision. And those dark eyes, ice-cold, and completely and utterly devoid of emotion.

Finally, she lost it. She bared her hands, suit claws nanosharpening to razor-like edge—and raced at him. She took a running leap and landed atop him. She was going to rip and tear, rend and maim, _ gulp _ down every last bit of him so there would be nothing left for anyone to resurrect. She went straight for the jugular as her claws got a grip on his shoulders, sinking into the padding.

And then she hurt herself.

Instead of sinking through warm, delicious alien flesh her teeth bounced off skin, pain shooting through her gums, and her claws tore through clothing as they too were unable to penetrate. It was like he was somehow made of durasteel that was still flesh. She slid off ungracefully, tearing cloth as she went, landing with a painful bump on the ground.

Raye stopped and looked down at her, his expression unchanging.

Krystal snarled and tried to tackle him again, this time adding her mental powers to the mix, her vision going double. This time it cooperated, turning on with a _ snap _. 

As a telepath she could see the silhouettes of every living being around her as a glowing humanoid-shaped mass of light. She could also, with impunity, punch these bodies and hurt them, reaching around their delicate, fragile minds with terrible force, if she so chose. Many a human had crumpled beneath her rape, turned into unthinking vegetables after she was through with them, put through unimaginable pain. She'd later kill them.

But this time she recoiled. Instead of a gentle light, maybe pulsing with emotion, about to be reeled by her "punch", she saw a blazing inferno that blinded her othersight completely and burned her own mind before, mercifully, her powers automatically shut off on their own. That had been happening lately, after Fox had been abducted. Her charge checked, Krystal instead hit a wall of man and crumpled to the ground. Again.

This time he gave her no time to recover. With lightning swiftness Raye reached down, grabbed her by the throat, and hoisted her into the air without so much as a grunt. Her feet dangling off the ground, Krystal tried kicking at his groin, but all she got was a searing pain as her foot rebounded off of the same steely imprenatrablibilty.

Bringing her to eye-level he looked into her blue eyes with an intensity that made her squirm—and choke as she fought to pry unrelenting fingers from off her throat. But then—something _ clicked _ inside of her, as if he was somehow shining a bright light _ into _ her very self, into her seething soul. Krystal's rage started to abate and was replaced with something she had not felt in a very, very long time.

Fear. 

A deep, primal fear like that of the trapped animal facing the predator. She had felt this fear only—

"Thou hast been found wanting," he said, “and the price of thy deeds shall now be required of thee."

He turned and tossed her across the room with absurd ease—she hit the opposite bulkhead, just to the left of her blaster shot, and fell down with a cry. Something in her back snapped and her tail went limp, pain shooting up her spine. Krystal looked up, snarling. "I will _ kill yaaargh! _"

Lightning—as if from a thunderhead—arced towards and hit immediately. Her body contorted, limbs going akimbo, as jolts of electricity raced up and down her. She was completely illuminated from head to toe, sparks blinding her, torching her fur—an acrid smell soon filled the room as her suit exploded. Her mouth was wide open, screaming helplessly and terminally.

Raye's supernatural display ceased, and he lowered his hand.

Krystal moaned, trying to push herself into a standing position. But it was impossible, all energy had drained out of her. There were bruises everywhere, on her neck, her foot, limbs and back from where she hit the wall, a throbbing in her head that could only be the beginnings of a concussion. Not to mention the melted plastic and ceramic mixture that _ had _ been her armor pooling on her skin, but she couldn’t feel that, not yet.

"Thine actions hast not gone unnoticed, Krystal of Cerinia, now called "Kursed". I knowest the suffering thou hast done to the children of men, of Sol and Lylat." Raye strode toward her, the same gait as before. "I am here to set things aright before thou damn thyself to oblivion."

"_Quit the fancy talk, f*#%er!" _ she screamed—or tried to. It came as a whisper, full of hatred. "I will _ kill _ you if you don’t finish the job!”

"Nay, thou hast slain thyself. By the multitude of thine iniquities thou hast wrought this fate." He reached her and stopped, just within striking distance if she could get herself to stand. "But there is yet hope for thy soul—if thou shalt repent of thy sins." He looked back toward where Fox lay. "It is well he cannot see what thou hast become."

That was his mistake, two actually. One, never turn away from one who is trapped and desperate, and two, never, ever speak of her Fox in that way to Krystal. "You had your chance, human," she grunted, standing up slowly, clawing her way upright, "now it is my turn."

"Obstinance shall not avail—"

She gave him no quarter—like as before, she leapt upon him, attempting to force him to the ground where she could kill him. Alas, Raye's hand shot out and more white lightning erupted from his fingers. It was like a branding hot was being applied to every part of her body. Krystal was literally pushed back to the bulkhead by the force of the blast, screaming in mortal agony as her skeleton lit up from within. Her teeth had sparks dancing between them and her clothing went ablaze; the fur beneath started to burn off, grey ash filling the air. It floated down, like snow, the ventilation systems still dead.

Collapsing back on the floor she tried to flee, but couldn't, caught in the grip of the lightning. The durasteel floor and wall behind her did nothing to help, only exacerbating the pain tenfold. It was said that the average Cornerian body had a certain pain tolerance before blacking out, and after that came death. This was not happening for Krystal, as it was easily over one billion volts, and the air did little to disperse the charge.

The whine of the lightning somehow increased, but the pain did not—it had long since reached the threshold where she _ should _ have blacked out, but she didn't. Constant and eternal agony, all she could do was scream herself hoarse and whimper when her voice gave out.

Finally, it stopped.

This time she didn't move. She could only breathe. Most of her beautiful blue-and-white fur had been burned off, leaving behind huge scars on white skin that was already cracking. Her suit was nonexistent, reduced to small smoking splotches dotting the floor. Slowly she raised her head, hatred in her eyes. "_ F—F—F*#% _ you," she whispered, tears leaking from the few functioning ducts left in her eyes. "Ki—Kill me… kill… me… please…"

"I am forbidden to do so."

"Then, pl—please s—s—stop this…"

"Thy pain shall end when thou repentest of thy wickedness." His voice was unwavering, emotionless, cruel. There was a crackling and he raised his hand again. Krystal closed her eyes and braced for the pain.

_ Crack. _

_ Bang. _

_ Crack-Crack. _

Raye turned around, to be tackled by a flying blur of white-and-speckled-brown. This time he did indeed go down.

The lynx Miyu Seraph, traitor to the Federation, was atop him, fangs bared and claws opened—and she was furious. "_ Take—That—You—Mother—F*#%—er—How—Dare—You—Do—This _!" she screamed, punctuating each one of her words with a slash of her claws.

"I may hate the Cornerians as much as you," a deep masculine voice not unlike Krystal's tormentor roared. "But even I wouldn't descend to this. Miyu, get off him."

There he was—Raye. The one she had killed, why was he _ here?! _ Krystal’s heart rate increased and her breath became short, her scorched lungs struggling to pull air in, starting to hyperventilate. First her tormentor now these two, who she had grievously injured. She feared their retribution more, especially Raye's. His scars were gone, but his face was contorted with fury. He pointed his gun at the fallen giant. "What do you have to say for yourself?" he hissed.

"Thou surprisest me, Raye Belial, son of Adam," the other Raye—the judge—answered. He began to rise.

Startled, Raye fired his gun.

_ Bang! _

There was a ping, and a smoking, compacted bullet landed beside Krystal's muzzle, and rolled away, stopping when it touched a solidifying plastic pool. It was hot even from a distance, and could singe her whiskers off if she had any.

The Judge stood and dusted himself off. It was quite unnecessary. What little was left of his shirt had since disintegrated after Miyu's attacks. Most interestingly was the absence of any sort of wound or claw marks. And now that he was standing it was plain to see that he was a head taller than the actual Raye, with the right proportions to match. "Thou surprisest me very much," he repeated.

"You have three seconds before I put another bullet in you," Raye said, putting his gun up to the Judge's face.

"As demonstrated, the others did nothing" The Judge reached out and crushed the gun's barrel with a loud _ crunch _. Raye let go with a shout, and the useless weapon dropped, clattering. "But tell me, Raye Belial, what is thine errand here?"

"How the fu…?” Raye wondered before snapping: “I was after Jessica, and then I hear explosions, and then I find you torturing the Blue Bitch. You are disgraceful!”

"The first is unharmed, if not a little dazed. But the latter is none of thy concern."

"You'll have to go through me first, then," Miyu said. Krystal's eyes moved and was treated to the sight of the lynx bending over her, protectively, pointing a blaster at the Judge. "My claws may be broken but you'll find I have a lot of fight left."

"Tell me then, Miyu Seraph Belial, daughter of the earth, why dost thou seek to defend thy first husband's killer?" 

_ A very good question _, flitted through Krystal’s mind, her vocal chords too tired to voice it.

"Because you are killing her."

"And what is the manner of her end to thee?"

"Because she would rather that the Blue Bitch be killed quickly and quietly instead of loudly and slowly," Raye added.

"I find that unlikely," the Judge answered. For the first time, there was humor in his voice, where before it had been flat and monotone.

"Raye is right, bastard." Miyu glared at the Judge. "I can stand many things but watching my enemy die a slow and pain-filled death is not one of them."

"Yet thou hast sought the same thyself."

"That's totally different!" she protested. "I tried to get her to see my side of things. I showed her my love for Raye and Caenda, I could reach her—!"

"Wait, you _ showed her?! _" Raye yelped. "What were you thinking?"

"Shut up! Listen, Raye, or whatever your name is—you leave her alone. You're doing nothing but turning her into a worse monster than she already is."

"I find it amusing that thou wouldest show compassion for thine enemy even when thou sought to kill her, just as thou accuseth me of doing."

Raye tried to pull the Judge to face him but nearly dislocated his own shoulder instead. He gave up but still kept his hand on him. "I would gladly rip out her throat with my own bare hands. But what's the point? I was protecting my family from her, and she's clearly gone and descended into madness; she's an animal, and I can't hate an animal."

"A crazed dog may still cause great harm."

"So who cares? We can contain her. Miyu's right—she can be showed that we are not cruel. Not that I believe it," he muttered.

"That does not answer my question as to why."

"Because it is the right thing to do!" both Miyu and Raye shouted.

Silence.

Krystal could hardly believe her ears. Just a week ago she had thrown their world into disarray. She had killed Raye—or his double—tried to kill their hybrid daughter (disgusting that Miyu would voluntarily breed with him!) and hurt and shot Miyu so many times it was a wonder she was still able to move at all. 

Now they were standing up for her, out of… what?

The Judge said, "Even when thou wast slain at her hand on the ice moon thou callest Hell, son of Adam?"

"Just call me Raye, thank you. Yes, even when she killed me."

"And even when she attempted to slay Caenda, daughter of earth?"

"Yes," Miyu gritted.

"Thou defendest her as if she wert still rational and accountable for her actions—even when in any of thine courts she wouldest be ruled insane and locked away with no hope of release."

"What are you getting at?" Raye asked. "Answer me that, what's your game here?"

"Thou hast shown her forgiveness. I thought it impossible of thee and thy wife."

"I just told you, I tried to show her that humans weren't so bad through my love of Raye, and she did show signs of changing!"

_ Actually, I wanted to vomit, _ Krystal thought. _ But it would have made a mess on the floor. _ Truth be told, what she had seen terrified her. That the humans were actually intelligent creatures capable of exactly the same things as _ anthropoi _were. She fled the room to avoid seeing any more of it, lest her hatred for them, of what they had done to her Fox, wane and her purpose and ferocity in defending Lylat fade.

The Judge laughed, a first. "Thou hast surprised me greatly. Thou art not twisted nor vengeful, showing forgiveness in thine enemy’s hour of need, after all of the pain thou and thy wife hath endured." His face then resumed its neutral expression, his eyes hardening. "But her judgment hath been decreed, and my task remains."

He took a step forward, almost pulling Raye off his feet without any effort; but Miyu stood, her short tail bristling, and faced him down, pointing her gun at him. "You try and hurt her and you'll have to go through us."

The Judge did nothing except to push her aside. She snarled and tried to step back in the way, but he pushed her again with enough force to send her stumbling into a bed; she dropped her weapon in surprise. 

Raye attempted to pull on his arm again but suddenly released it as a jolt of electricity coursed through him. "Ouch!" he hissed, now very preoccupied with shaking out his numbed limb. "What are you doing?"

"Seek not to hinder the judgement. It is not for my good but hers that I am sent." He knelt down before Krystal, who shrank away from him. Those eyes of his had held contempt even beneath the impartiality, a strange loathing that she could not fathom. Now they held… nothing. "Thine enemies have shown thee mercy. Doest thou accept it?"

She shivered and closed her eyes. She did not want to look at him any more.

"Then hearken well: thou hast been subjected to all of the physical pain thou hast inflicted upon thy victims. Now thou shalt endure the pain of the mind thou hast given them. Thy gifts shalt be stripped from thee, all of them. As king Nebuchadnezzar of old, second of that name, was humbled, even so shalt thou be."

Krystal felt a finger touch her forehead.

"The Lord hath spoken. Amen."

A strange warmth began to percolate through her body, leaving behind healing in every limb. She felt strength return to her. But before Krystal could stand, a new pain suddenly shot through her body—a sharp one; unlike the lightning it was swift and precise, not prolonged and agonizing. She gasped.

Miyu gave a small cry, putting her hands to her mouth, eyes widening. Raye cursed.

Krystal's arms and legs started to shorten and reconfigure, bones cracking as they reshaped themselves. Her body began shrinking and her skin bubbling like wax, contracting. Her neck popped and shifted, her head resettling in a new orientation and her skull morphed to fit. A tingling started to cover her throughout as new fur grew rapidly in a matter of moments.

Last, but not least, her roiling mind was suddenly calm, as if the raging storm had been quieted by just a word. The residual sensations of Raye, Miyu, Jessica, and Fox's minds all faded away from her perception. For the first time in a long while, her head was quiet. 

Most important of all, the burning sun that was the Judge vanished, as if an eclipse had permanently snuffed him out.

"My God, what did you do to her?"

"She hath misused her gifts and perverted them to dark designs, changed beyond recognition. These now hath been taken from her. What remains is what she hast become."

Where an anthropomorphic humanoid fox had lain was now an actual literal one. She had regressed (devolved was perhaps the better word) back into a canid animal, no longer remotely human. Krystal's limbs were digitigrade, her fur a dark brownish color, and she had no capacity for speech, as she soon discovered when she tried to speak and only a yip came out.

Miyu quickly stepped forward and knelt down, gathering Krystal up in her arms.

"Raye and Miyu Belial, thou hast shown forgiveness unto thine enemy. Wilt thou now take her under thy wing? To protect her until she is made whole?"

"Will… will she become herself again?" 

"That is up to her. The path to redemption is long, but it can be made shorter."

"There is no way I will ev—"

"We'll do so," Miyu said firmly.

"We will?"

"Yes!"

"You must be joking, Miyu, listen to yourself, why would we adopt her? She's a danger to everyone, and don't even think about putting her in the same room with Caenda!"

"Thy child shall help her regain her lost humanity," the Judge added.

"Damn it, no, there is no way—"

"Raye, we _ have _ to take her. No, shut up, and listen to me. You, Raye person, what would happen if we didn't take her in?"

The Judge answered: "She shall live as a beast of the field, reflecting forever upon all that she hath wrought, separate forever from her people until she at last maketh amends."

"You see, Raye?" Miyu said, looking at her husband, "we can't abandon her. Look, she has lost her mind and if she is found out do you know how many people will want her? The Dynasty will subject her to their experiments—you remember that, don't you? Corneria would do the same to her—and Fox, oh man, we can't even let him see her. Do you want another war started because he started to become like her?"

Raye's face twisted as he struggled against the logic of her words. "But, who cares about her?"

"Even if she's a war criminal she's still seen as the hero of Lylat. She'll be held up as a martyr—do you want another war?"

"No, of course not, but—"

"Then it is settled. Sir," she said to the Judge, "we'll take her in."

"Thou hast chosen wisely. So be it."

Krystal was silent now, huddled into herself. If her Fox didn't know what had happened to her, she had no future. How could she find him from wherever she was exiled to, let alone tell him what had happened to her? He might recognize her, but the odds were against that—about as likely as one of the humans recognizing an ape as one of them. The rest of Star Fox, after how she had treated them, would not be inclined to find her, despite the years of living and fighting together. Falco certainly would never want her back, but perhaps Peppy and Slippy might.

She felt a soft hand touch her tear-streaked face, and looked up. It was Miyu, who looked at her with pity and sorrow. Krystal closed her eyes and wept quietly—the full impact of what had happened came crashing down about her. She was an animal in body, but—faintly—still a woman in spirit, unable to communicate in any way except that of the body she was condemned to. It was, indeed, the greatest humiliation anyone had ever inflicted on her—and ironic, that in her powerless state she was to be given over into the care of her sworn enemies.

"All right," Raye said, finally, "But not until this war is over." The look he shot towards Miyu said that he wasn't done yet.

"That shalt come to pass in good time," the Judge said. "Both sides art tired of war, and the Matriarch mayest be more inclined to peace offerings when she learneth how thou hast saved her." He gestured toward Fox's bed, where Jessica was stirring.

Miyu gasped again, almost squeezing Krystal's breath out. "Oh my God, we can't let Jessica see her like this!"

"Fear not, she shall remember nought that is not hers to know once she awakens. But now my Lord’s errand is done. I must depart."

"Hold on, what the hell are you?" Raye demanded.

"I am the Judge."

"No, what _ are _ you."

The Judge considered his words for a short time. He said, "I am one of the Erinyes, thou might find the name familiar. We impart justice to those who hath wronged others. We are the defenders of the helpless, of the fatherless, the widow and the orphan: we protect those who cannot protect themselves. This is our charge by our Lord’s will."

"Your Lord?"

"Yes."

"Who is he? I want to have a word with him right now."

The Judge smiled. "So thou hast. Thou shalt know where to look."

He vanished.

"Wha—What happened?" Jessica asked, groggily. She sat up. "How'd I get here."

Raye immediately went over to her. "It was Krystal," he said, kneeling down. It was as if the encounter had never happened.

"Oh, that wretch. She—She got _ me _—where is she!?" Jessica tried to rise.

"Please, don't strain yourself. I've taken care of her. Miyu too."

She stopped fighting his hands. "You came for me?" she asked.

He closed his eyes. "Yes," he said finally. "We came for you."

Jessica enfolded him in a hug. "Thank you."

Krystal ignored all of it. She was unable to even bring herself to wrestle from Miyu's arms, which kept tightening around her. She was humiliated. More than humiliated—she just wanted to die.

She heard a cooing above her. "There, there, Krystal, you're safe now." Miyu started rocking her back and forth like a baby. "We will help you. Shh, don't cry. It will be all right."

_ I wish I could die, _ Krystal thought.

A tramping of feet got their attention. Looking up they saw a virtual battalion of soldiers come charging into the room, SAM-Rs at the ready. "Room clear!" the commander announced. "My lady, we got word you had disappeared."

"Yes, I am fine," she said with some shakiness. "I would commend you for seeking me out but instead Raye and his—" she gulped audibly "—his wife got here first." She looked down. "Please see to it that these medics and this Cornerian are taken care of."

The commander saluted. "Yes, ma'am."

"So what's your goal now?" Raye asked.

"Finish this idiotic battle," she answered, “and find where Krystal went.”

"I took care of her. It was quick and painless."

"Really?" She looked around the room, pausing at Miyu but failing to note the bundle of quivering foxfur in her arms. "I don't see her body."

"Cornerian blasters do a good job of destroying the body, you just got to set it right." Raye leaned down and picked up Krystal's dropped, slightly melted weapon. "This was handy."

"All right, I'll believe you, but I want a full debriefing later."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Also, Miyu, dear, would you like to be our ambassador to Corneria? I feel peace talks will be… needed. Not until I’ve hammered my will through the _ new _ Dynasty."

"I would," she said faintly.

"Excellent, come on, Raye, we've got a fleet and an empire to reorganize."

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

* * *

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to Arcmind from Destinypedia for helping me sort out the Judge’s vocabulary.


	2. Hiraeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The first chapter was originally a one-shot as a gut-based reaction to what I perceived was a serious lack of proper karmic justice in Sanitarium's stories (that and long updates). Happily, I got the idea to expand it into a proper story of redemption.

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

* * *

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

** _Hiraeth_ **

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

* * *

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

** _Eria _ ** **— Two Steps from Hell**

* * *

** _Avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, "Vengeance is mine; I will repay," saith the Lord. Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good._ **

* * *

Krystal slunk along the edges of the hall.

It was mid afternoon, and the autumn sun shone at an angle through the front door. The patterns in the glass made colorful and pretty shadows against the white wall, the stairway entrance to the right and ascending up left as one came through the door. The hardwood flooring was comfortably warm against her paws as she moved very carefully, head turning this way and that, making for the stairs. The patterns danced across her reddish fur as she went.

_ Please, please let me get there, _ she thought. 

She took another step, then froze as glass tinkled directly ahead of her. Her tail fluffed out in defense. Then it relaxed as she breathed a sigh of relief—the fluent stream of German curses showed that it was just the mistress of the house having a bad day. Krystal couldn’t actually see the entrance into the living room, as it was off to the left of her sight, but the frantic movements to the side showed Miyu was hurrying to the kitchen for a dustpan.

_ Good, that means she is distracted… _

Before she could take another step, this time she really did freeze, not one hair twitching—there were footsteps on the stairs. Krystal craned her head upwards, following the sound as it descended.

_ Oh please, don’t let her see me, please… please! _

“Mommy, what’s wrong?” Little Caenda, now four years old and walking about on her own and speaking very coherent sentences, peered into the living room. “Why are you saying all those funny words?”

“Caenda, don’t worry, I just knocked something over. Go back to bed.”

“Okay, mommy…” She turned away.

Krystal started to back up, squishing her body against the wall.  _ Oh no, please no, don’t look this way, please don’t look, I beg you, pleas— _

“Doggie? Is that you I see?”

_ Oh crap! _

Krystal broke all pretense of skulking and turned tail, scampering the opposite way down the hall, running for her life.

“Doggie, come back!” Caenda sidestepped the stairs and chased after, those deceptively short legs faster than they looked. “I’m gonna getcha!” she shrieked with excitement.

Krystal tore through the dining room, narrowly avoided collision with the chairs, sidestepped the washing machinery in the “workroom” in the rear of the home, and into the kitchen, very quickly going in a complete U-turn. Caenda was hot on her tracks. Just in time Krystal realized she was going to slam headfirst into the kitchen counter—she skidded, legs going helter-skelter as she frantically made a turn for the backdoor.

“Krystal, what in the bloody blazes are you doin—? Caenda, stop that!”

“But mom—!”

“No buts, I told you to go back upstairs—”

In the midst of the confusion Krystal darted out the little backdoor flap and out into the yard. She did not stop until she was well on the other side of the tiny suburban yard. She dove into the bushes, heavy with snow from the unseasonable weather plaguing this part of Zoness, and retreated as far back as she could. There she huddled in the cold and damp, watching the house furtively. 

In doing so she accidentally dislodged a clump of snowy ice and it fell on top of her.

_ Owie—coldcoldcoldcoldcold—!  _ her mind rang in endless litany as she frantically tried to shake it off all the while  watching the white door furtively, as the hunted would watch a hunter—and that description was fitting as Caenda sought endlessly to try and capture her, for no purpose other than cuddles.

Suddenly the door flap opened and Caenda was wiggling through, a look of determination on her alien features, speckled brown-and-black ears twitching from the cold. Her face was unlike an  _ anthropos _ , with no muzzle whatsoever, and it wasn’t as narrow. Instead it was flatter and more heart-shaped, a careful blend between her mother and father’s features, although Raye’s was most prominent. Thankfully she grew thick fur around the end of her first year, and the questions regarding her parentage stopped—although Miyu was so tight-lipped about it and aggressively rebuffed any questions that came her way that people eventually ignored Caenda’s strange looks long ago.

_ Please let her be stopped, please, please! _ Krystal thought anxiously as Caenda forced most of her torso through the tiny entrance. Once the little brat was out in the yard it would only be a matter of time before the chase began again. Her legs tensed, preparing to run again if discovered.

Suddenly the little hybrid gave a squeak, like a mouse, and started protesting madly, her arms flailing as her mother began pulling her back inside. “I don’ wanna go back to sleep I wanna cuddle the doggies lemme go mommy lemme go—!”

With a mighty heave Miyu wrenched her recalcitrant daughter back inside. The screams and furious crying gradually faded away, and the flap soon stopped swinging.

_ Oh, thank God and the spirits and whatever, _ Krystal sighed. She quickly climbed out of the bushes (the scent of the Zonessian lily-flowers was still heavy from yesterday despite the snowfall) and made her way back. She gave herself a few shakes, trying to get rid of all the snow before it melted.  _ Damn this weather _ , she grumbled.  _ Why couldn’t we have a normal fall for once, ugh. _

One of the unforeseen advantages of being confined to this tiny body—no more than one point four meters long, her tail being fifty-five centimeters of that—was that she could adapt to seasonal changes more quicker than other  _ anthropoi _ . Somehow being upright and able to use technology had caused the  _ anthropoi _ to lose the ability to grow different coats in response to the changing of seasons, not to mention shedding was minimal. Just another one in the long list of things she missed being as a woman. Everytime she shed so much as a single hair, Miyu would track her down and give her the most vigorous and painful brushings ever, pulling out more fur than what she’d shed. It was humiliating!

Her hearing and smell had increased tenfold, and this was obnoxious as smells otherwise undetectable to even Miyu would come to her and make her sneeze. Hearing was so sensitive that there was good reason she avoided Caenda. However, the increasing night vision was a blessing—she could roam about the house freely without hitting things. 

Unfortunately none of these changes affected the cold of the outdoors. Zonessian winds could reach up to ninety-two kilometers an hour, gale force, and this coupled with unseasonable cold made going outdoors—her one refuge—miserable. It was just as well Caenda was still young enough to need daily naps.

Krystal moved up the step and through the door. She shook herself off one final time on the mat (living with Miyu had taught her that there were certain rules to be followed, to the letter) then crept toward the stairs, going by way of the living room which lay just in front of her. 

The living room, which Miyu called the “love cave” for no reason other than that it was cozy and comfortable (why, Krystal had no idea), not too large or too small—in fact it was part of the kitchen. The furnishings were not ornate as Miyu survived on two special pensions, one from the Cornerian space force and one straight from the government, and had to be thrifty with her money. There were: one medium-sized couch, two chairs grouped around the electric fireplace, two tables with a light fixture and some knick-knacks placed next to the half-wall abutting the kitchen, and a bookcase against the far end loaded with various things. To round it off, a second-hand rug Miyu bought at a yard sale covered part of the floor, and one large window colored as the front door lit up the room. The light was noticeably more dim—Zoness had a weird axial tilt compared to Corneria, and no doubt it contributed to the awful weather.

Some sparkling caught Krystal’s eye as she trod on the rug, and she decided to investigate. There was no hurry now that Caenda was put back in bed so she could spend some extra time before moving back upstairs. It turned out the sparkling was bits of glass on the hearth and rug, along with a splintered frame and upside-down photograph. A dustpan and broom lay discarded beside them, no doubt when Miyu ran off to chase her daughter.

Krystal pawed at the photograph, cursing inside at the lack of opposable thumbs. Damn that Judge person. She managed to finally tip it over. Her curiosity deflated.  _ Oh, it’s this thing, _ she grumbled, tail hanging down. It was a picture of Miyu in her pilot uniform with her arms thrown around a very handsome and strong-looking pantherine man with dark fur, almost a bluish black, whose dark eyes seemed to glimmer. Both looked very happy in that picture.  She looked closely—those eyes, where had she seen those eyes? 

_ Humph, at least it isn’t Raye, _ she sniffed. Though why would the hussy go out and date with a respectable  _ anthropos _ after already bearing a child with an alien was beyond her. Nothing made any sense about that woman.

Her interest satisfied, and feeling very tired all of a sudden from running, she turned and went for the stairs. She hadn’t expected her… bathroom break… would take this long. The only reason she had taken the long way via the dining room instead of the hall was to sidestep Caenda, which was a wise decision given this past month (this had been the third time the hybrid had gotten out of bed, so out came the padlock, thank God). If it weren’t for the call of nature at various and sundry times Krystal would very happily have hibernated the whole winter in her little bed.

Halfway up the stairs she heard again footsteps.  _ Oh no, not again, _ she thought, bolting as fast as she could.

She swiftly turned the corner—down the right—sped down the hall and disappeared through the tiny pet door and into her  hideaway, safely ensconced within a pile of old and comfortable blankets amid the little bed.  The hall closet door was always kept closed for her protection. Safe at last, and soaking wet, she was soon fast asleep.

_ I just want my life back…  _ were her closing thoughts,  _ with no Caenda… or Miyu… _

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

Miyu trooped wearily down the stairs, her ears down in exhaustion.  _ Such strength is unnatural from a toddler, _ she thought. Caenda had put up a heroic fight against her mother all the way up the stairs. Not even threatening spankings had caused her to calm down—apparently all she wanted to do was go and cuddle with “the doggies”, as she called Krystal most of the time.  _ Oh I can’t let you do that, my adorable little demon. _

Krystal was jittery at best, unbalanced at worst—it was a wonder she hadn't hurt Caenda in all the time she had lived with them. Or, given that she kept running from Caenda every single time they were in the same room, maybe she feared Miyu more than she cared about getting even. (Wasn’t that blur of motion she saw earlier Krystal?) That was perfectly all right, but Miyu knew animals. Push them too far and they would attack. She’d owned two when she had studied at the flight academy.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs she went back to cleaning up her mess. A pity it had to be the photo frame. There she was, dusting the mantelpiece when an errant twitch of her duster had sent it tumbling down. Likely Caenda had already been halfway down the stairs when it happened, and it was just her luck that Krystal was trying to get back to sleep at the same time. So many unnecessary diversions.

She knelt down and picked up the photo, sighed, and set it down as she grabbed the broom. As she cleaned up the shattered glass her thoughts went back to nearly two years before, when the Final Dynasty and the Cornerian Federation had finally declared an armistice, in fact mere weeks after that… encounter… aboard the  _ Eternal Fire. _ The armistice held but the population of Lylat and her colonies still felt the wounds of that war. Not a day went by without some newscaster ranting against the whole thing, urging the Federation to break the peace and go back to war before “those damned Dynastics crush us all!”

_ You fools, _ she thought.  _ We were on our last legs, and nearly destroyed in that battle, and you want us to go back to war. _ Idiots, the whole lot of them. This contributed to her bad temper in addition to the weather, her irritation with her daughter, and constant concern that Krystal was going to snap and make her regret her decision to adopt her.

She didn’t know what the Dynasty thought of the whole thing, but likely there was little dissent against it, especially with Monarch Jessica helming the reigns. Everything about that woman screamed “obey or die”. She wondered what Raye thought of it. In fact, if he were here now, he would tell her that everything was all right and that Jessica had everything under control. That was how well she knew him, that he’d say stuff like that.

In her mind’s eye she remembered clearly that day—a lonely planetoid, set in the newly designated neutral zone between the Dynasty and the Federation, and two giant ships within one lightday: the Titan  _ Eternal Fire _ and the supercarrier  _ Queen of Lylat _ . It seemed strange to bring out their most powerful toys to an armistice, but that was politics, a show of force to display one’s power. On that planetoid, inside a habitat set up jointly by human and  _ anthropinos _ engineers of cold steel bulkheads and harsh white lights, the Monarch and the President signed the armistice at a small table. Jessica took the initiative by signing her name first then offering the pen to the President. 

Their honor guards stood opposite one another, with no weapons but ceremonial ones present—although Miyu knew at the bottom of her heart those were loaded and ready. Trust was hard to come by. Miyu herself had stood by Jessica, acting in the unique position of being the Dynasty's ambassador to the Federation, and oversaw the signing. Behind her had been Raye, standing near the center as the commander. He reassured her that nothing bad would happen, being as mysterious when she’d asked him what he had meant. He merely had put his finger to his lips, winked, and went  _ shhh _ and that was the end of that. Opposite her, in the Cornerian line, was Fay, representing the fighter corps, a small bloc of five pilots and of divers species. The President apparently thought it a good idea to show off their multiracial military composition to contrast the Dynasty's monoculture. More pointless bragging, she wasn’t even sure who had technically “won” in that last engagement. 

Finally the last signature was on the paper—she couldn’t remember exactly, but there was a third one present below Jessica’s and the President’s—the two leaders shook hands, the gathered honor guards saluted, and that was the end of it. An uneasy peace at last… for the time being.

Pierce, unfortunately, was not there. He wasn’t a soldier, only a medic, so he wouldn’t have been able to see Fay. He was back on the  _ Eternal Fire _ . But Jessica didn’t forget the one tiny detail that made life bearable for them all—with collaboration from the Cornerian government, there were photo alterations made of them so Miyu could have Raye in the form of her childhood crush, a big and powerful panther. Fay had a similar one of Pierce, a droopy canine with glasses. Who knew what they looked like as humans.

Smiling, and holding back tears which came involuntarily to her eyes, Miyu swept up the glass and disposed of them in the kitchen garbage. She saved the frame, however. Perhaps she’ll go to the woodworker’s later this week to have it fixed. It’d be good to get out of the house with Caenda, since her appearance no longer elicited strange comments. Krystal would be perfectly safe, and the fence was tall enough that she couldn’t get out. Returning to the living room she got the picture and sank down on the couch with a groan. 

Finally, some rest. Keeping the house clean, Caenda and Krystal under control, and managing her expenses was exhausting. Brushing some fur out of her eyes she looked at the photo. It was an expert manipulation. The photographer who took it was a true professional, not letting her personal feelings or loathing of the  _ xenos _ get in the way. The changes were then done on the completed file, printed, and framed. This was the only way she could have a memory of her man without anyone suspecting it. For some reason the President and the brass decided it was not such a good idea to let this knowledge get out to the public, that  _ anthropoi _ and humans could apparently breed. More the fools they were—whatever was the matter with it? It showed they were not as different as they once thought. Perhaps they shared some distant ancestor of long ago, or perhaps one came from the other. Racial chauvinists would no doubt claim that humans were offshoots of the  _ anthropoi _ . God only knew what Dynastic scientists thought, or if they thought at all ever since the Director’s very public execution. That stinking man, Samuel. She shuddered just thinking about him, of how he had looked at her.

Setting her picture aside on her lap, she thought to whatever Raye was doing. How was he, anyhow? Were there other enemies to the Dynasty to fight, or was he retired now? Did Jessica think that he could be hers again? Ha! not a chance. Raye would no doubt be faithful still… but she still wondered.

_ No, no, no, you silly girl, _ she reproached herself.  _ He is doing fine, and is thinking about you right now. There is nothing to fear, just don’t worry about it…  _ She leaned back, closing her eyes, and settled into that comfortable daydream of that impossible day they would be reunited and be a real family again—

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.  _ Ding ding ding!  _ It echoed through the quiet house.

Groaning loudly she clapped a hand to her face and got up, unwilling to leave her rest. But she had to before it woke Caenda and the whole rigmarole started again. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she said, just loud enough that whomever was at the door would hear. Who the hell could it be? She cut herself off from all contact except with Fay ever since returning to Zoness, and it couldn’t be her sister-in-arms, surely not. It was the middle of the afternoon for God’s sake, and she was off somewhere on the opposite side of the planet, relaxing on a summer beach.

Surely it wasn’t the mailman—she never got packages except on birthdays, and the nearest one, Caenda’s, was not for another three months! 

She went on to the door and peeked through the viewer. The smiling white-furred canine features of Fay filled the entire circle. And from the way she looked, she seemed to have her face pressed up against the door.

Miyu sighed exasperatedly and began unlocking her door—two locks, a door-chain, and a combination lock—and swung it open a minute later, looking very annoyed. “Fay, please, it’s the middle of the afternoon and Caenda’s asle—” she began but came to a stuttering halt when she saw Fay was not alone.

“Uh… hi, there,” she said somewhat lamely, giving a small wave to the pantheress behind her friend. 

“Hello,” the patheress said in a refined tone. She was lithe and incredibly attractive, with a glossy look to her fur that seemed to beg at the fading sunlight to accentuate it. “I am Morgana Johnson. Fay ran into me in the Auraspace hypermarket last fourthday and we became fast friends.”

“O—Okay then,” Miyu stuttered, looking rapidly between Fay, who grinned like she had just gotten a treat, and Morgana, who continued to look politely confused. “Oh, well… do come in,” she said dispiritedly. 

Ordinarily she relished it whenever Fay would come over. The woman was still young and playful at heart, exactly like those little dog creatures the humans had running around, and would keep Caenda busy for as long she was there, giving Miyu a much needed break. Even Krystal would get roped into the fun, to her ever present displeasure. After a great deal of deliberation Miyu decided not to say anything about the little fox to Fay until she had a chance to talk to Raye about it. Fay, meanwhile, took it all in stride but had asked her why she had a pet named after her worst enemy. Miyu pointedly ignored those questions and the matter was eventually forgotten. 

Another good reason for her visits was the news she’d bring. After returning home to Zoness, Miyu had disabled her television shortly after because of all of the war talk. She didn’t feel like it was healthy for Caenda to be hearing all of that, not to mention most of the programmes that were on television were downright unsuitable for a little girl. Fay provided a welcome distraction.

But ever since she’d gone gallivanting off around the world Miyu felt increasingly alone and grew more irritable by the day, often just barely keeping herself in check. She took Caenda everywhere with her, and Krystal when they went on long walks, but nothing helped. This surprise visit should have lifted her spirits. Instead they got worse.

“Please, take a seat on the couch. I’ll go and make some tea—” Miyu said but Fay cut her off. 

“Oh no you don’t, you see I brought Mrs. Johnson here specifically to get you two acquainted.”

“But Fay—”

“No buts, in you go.”

“Miss Fay, perhaps we should let Mrs. Belial do what she wants.”

“Oh, fiddledeedee,” Fay laughed. “She doesn’t want to admit it but she’s been dying for some company apart from myself. So go on, take a seat—” she added, pushing Miyu into the living room and plopping her down on her own sofa, “—and I’ll get everything ready. By the way, Caenda is asleep, yes?”

“Yes, I  _ told _ you—!” 

“Ah, what a pity, she’d love Morgana. Well, off I go, have fun you two!” She turned and flounced off, looking far too happy than any normal and sane person ought to be, humming mindlessly her way into the kitchen.

Miyu huffed, and settled back against her seat. “That woman will be the death of me,” she groaned.

“Perhaps I can breathe some life into you, then,” Morgana suggested as she sat down far more gracefully, tail curling into her lap to avoid getting sat on. The tip would occasionally twitch. “You don’t even know why I’m here, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” she admitted. “Do we have anything in common? I don’t know if you are also military or not.”

“Former military, special forces.”

“Oh, then we wouldn’t know one another. Space force.”

“I am well aware, Mrs. Ambassador.”

Miyu grimaced. “I don’t want to be reminded of that. It was for a necessary purpose and I’m glad it’s done.”

Morgana gave her a cheeky grin. “Oh no, no, no, I don’t mean it like  _ that _ . We do have something very much in common. For instance, that photo you are holding there.”

“Oh, this?” Miyu held it up. It was crumpled where she had accidentally made a fist in anger over Fay’s impertinence. “What about it? It’s just an old boyfriend.”

“His name is Mr. Raye Belial, isn’t it? Squad Serpent?”

Miyu’s mouth dropped and her ears shot straight up. “Wh—What?! H—How do you know that?”

Morgana laughed, a tinkly sort of laugh. “Oh don’t you worry, Fay had nothing to do with it. Well, if I’m being honest, she has had every bit of her hand in it. She saw my photograph on my mantelpiece and recognized it immediately. But it was not just that, it was my boy James too. He has too much of his father in him.”

“Would you like sugar or nothing in your tea, Morgana?” Fay called from the kitchen. “How about you Miyu?”

“I would like some sugar, two cubes please.”

“One.”

“Thank yooou!” 

“So… you… you have a kid with…?”

“Oh yes, yes indeed. The tale of how we ended together is a bizarre one, but no more bizarre than what happened between you and your Raye, no doubt.”

Miyu smiled, fondly remembering those times where they had bickered and screamed at one another before they fell madly in love. And sex, too, but that came well after they had admitted they were in love. “Yes, it is. I’ll have to tell you sometime, in exchange for your story.”

“Not a problem.”

Fay reentered the living room, bearing a tray with three cups of steaming tea, complete with pot and bowl of cubes. “I thought we could relax together, unwind, you know?” She set it down on the coffee table and took her own seat on one of the two chairs.

“Yes, thank you, Fay, for bringing Morgana over.” Miyu was too tired to be cross anymore. She accepted the cup and took a sip. The warming liquid spread throughout her system like a much needed jolt of fuel to her Interceptor’s burners. She felt refreshed almost immediately.

“Mmmhmmm, is this ginger?” 

“Yes it is, Morgana. Nice and relaxing. So, have you told her about your son?”

“Mmmhmm, yes, and how you figured it out.”

“Oh, don’t give me too much credit. It was James,” she said to Miyu, “he apparently didn’t listen to his mom while I was in the house and proudly told me his dad was an alien, a ‘hooman’ as he put it.” She laughed, then choked as she’d been drinking.

“Oh dear,” Miyu exclaimed as the pantheress clapped Fay on the back.

“Don’t worry, James has been getting far to o precocious for his own good,” Morgana continued. “I thought by putting him in school he’d be too busy to worry about it, but I had to take him out after he nearly caused a fight when another kid insulted his father’s species.”

“Oh  _ dear _ !” 

“Yes, indeed, he knocked her right down with a move from fox-fu, I think. The teacher tried to separate them after he started pummeling her but he attacked him too and the police was called. I had to sort things out.” She smiled fondly as she took another sip. “He has his father’s temper, all right.”

“So… tell me about him.”

“It’s… well, it’s a long story. I don’t think we’ll have the time. Fay?”

“Oh, silly me, I almost forgot. There was another reason why we came here. Morgana was literally an afterthought, you know, and I was going to tell you yesterday but I was too busy getting to know James—”

“Fay, please, the point?” Morgana interrupted, looking at her with narrowed eyes. 

“Yes, right, ahem.” Fay set down her cup, stretched, feeling bones popping, then said: “In less than a week’s time you’ll see Raye again!”

Miyu almost dropped her cup in surprise. “Wait…  _ what?! _ ” she yelped. She forgot that Caenda was asleep just above them.

“Oh, yes, yes! Jessica and the President—oh, all right, fine—the Dynasty and the Federation have been working things out to try and resolve the “interspecies mating” problem we’ve caused for them. Both don’t want to admit to the people that we are somehow related, so they’ve come up with a solution that’ll get us all out of their fur.”

“Exile?” Miyu guessed correctly, and couldn’t help but be sarcastic about it.

“Well… yes, but I’d take being with Pierce over being here in this dreary planet and hearing about calls for renewed war, you know?” 

“I do know and understand,” Morgana said. “I miss my Johnson dearly, and I’m sure he misses his little boy. I know how you feel, Miyu, being closed off and a virtual pariah in society. Life hasn’t been easy, taking care of a hyperactive child all alone.”

Miyu put her hand on the pantheress’ own. “We should have connected sooner,” she said. 

“Well, yes, but the fact is I live on the other side of the planet, and Fay convinced me to take a trip here to see you. I doubt she’d be able to get you to leave the house—you have a pet dog to take care of?”

“Fox, actually,” she corrected. “And yes, she’s a handful, I can’t let her out of my sight.”

“Interesting. Why do you have her?”

“I was lonely and I… I needed company.” What, she was actually going to tell her the real reason why Krystal existed? Ha, no way!

“Well, I’ll be staying in town anyway now that I’m here. I brought James with me and he is fast asleep back at the hotel. The ladies there are so nice to watch him for me. I wonder how the humans handle their children. I do know that my Johnson adored little James.”

Miyu giggled. “Well, do bring him over. Caenda will be glad to have a partner in crime and not just Fay. Just please make sure he goes easy on Krystal.”

“I can’t promise you that, but I will do my best.”

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

Krystal’s ears twitched at the sound of someone coming toward her door. She was not yet awake before the door opened completely. Before she could shake off her grogginess a pair of arms reached in and pulled her into a big hug.

_ Ohouchlemmegopleaseowie—! _ she gasped out, a strangled sort of squawk.  _ What did I do to deserve this?! _

“Oh, Krystal, I thought I’d find you here.” Oh please, Miyu always knew she was here—wait, was she happy?  _ No, keep me out of it! _

Miyu gave her another squeeze then turned her around, holding up the tiny fox by her forelimbs. Krystal felt ridiculous in this position. 

“Guess what?”

_ You letting me go? _

“We’ll be seeing Raye again!”

Fear sprang anew in her mind. She snorted to try and hide it.

“Oh, don’t be such a wuss, you’ll love it! Just you wait, we’ll be in a new home, Caenda will be happy, and you won’t have to worry about being chased by her again!”

_ Haha, no thanks, I’m doing perfectly fine on my own, woman. _

It galled her that Miyu could be so forgetful when she wanted to be. She hated that—just another one of the long list of things she hated. Like, for instance, the fact that Miyu was blessed with a most heavenly hourglass body and bountiful breasts while she was trapped to this little baby body. She longed daily to be that woman again, but no, that Judge person had to take it all away.

Before she could stop her, Miyu leaned forward and planted a kiss right on her head. “Oh do stop being a grouch, Krystal, you know all of that anger bottled up inside will do you no good. Raye will help us make sure Caenda is occupied, just imagine how much of a relief that’ll be. You won’t even be stuck in this little closet day in, day out.”

Krystal merely whined. If she could she’d tell the woman to f*&# right off, but if she did that’d earn her a slap to the face and an hour’s worth of being chased up and down the house with all routes of escape blocked off while Caenda tried to incessantly hug her.

Miyu seemed to take it to mean that she should let her down, and placed her back onto her bed—gently, too. Krystal wasted no time in burrowing beneath her blankets. “Good night, Krystal,” Miyu said. She reached over and gave her a light bop on the head. “Don’t let the bed-bugs bite.”

Krystal waited there, pretending to sleep, until the mistress of the house had closed the door.

When she heard Miyu stepping into her room, which conveniently was just next to her own, and had closed the door, she immediately bolted out of her little hidey hole and raced down the stairs. She didn’t stop until she was outside and in the cold. Night had fallen.

She quickly burrowed into the snow, hoping the cold and wet would wake her up out of what she hoped was just another bad dream. It did not and served only to make her even more miserable.

_ Why me, please, why me, _ she moaned. 

Krystal dreaded meeting Raye, her enemy and keeper. Nevermind that it was Miyu who had forced the adoption, it was  _ him _ who was ultimately in charge. She did not want to see him—she didn’t even know how long it would be until they met! 

She did not move until the temperature had dropped to far below what she could tolerate, and she reluctantly retreated back inside to warmth and imprisonment. It was going to be a  _ loooong _ week…

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

* * *

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hiraeth is a Welch word which means “nostalgia”, or more specifically, a longing of what had been opposed to the here and now.


	3. Departure

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

* * *

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

** _Departure_ **

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

* * *

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

** _Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. For there is no power but of God: the powers that be are ordained of God._ **

* * *

“Miyu, hold her still.”

“I’m try—trying—she just doesn—doesn’t want to—to—stay  _ still _ ! Gah!”

“I wonder how you managed to keep from drowning her every time you cleaned her, really, I am in awe—”

“Shut up, Morgana, there weren’t any guides on how to take care of a pet fox—!”

“Oh really, you couldn’t have looked on the alternet? There are  _ dozens _ of people on Corneria who have taken care of hundreds of foxes, professionally! Why didn’t you think to look there?”

“I was bus—”

“Taking care of a hyperactive child, managing your taxes, your house, your antisocial behaviors, and a pet fox who hates baths because you didn’t bother learning how to do it, yes, spare me. And so help me, God, if I find you had her living inside of a closet instead of a nice warm cage I will give you hell—”

“ _ Krystal, stay the f*#% still, you worthless animal—! _ ”

“Miyu, such language! There are kids in the hous—”

The rest of Morgana’s sentence was drowned out by a long whine from Krystal, who squirmed and struggled to get out from under Miyu’s oppressive grip.  Fully expecting this Miyu had striped herself down to her undergarments while Morgana underestimated the amount of resistance the fox would put up. The bathroom was slippery from Krystal’s constant attempts at getting out of the tub, which, despite having only a few inches of water, still managed to get everywhere and everyone wet.

With the remaining water whirlpooling down the drain, carrying suds with it, both women were wrestling with a madly fighting Krystal, who tried so very hard to get out of their grip. Morgana primed the airblower she held and began drying her down, leaving Miyu to do the bulk of the work. It was difficult and she finally had to physically squash the fox onto the floor, further wettening her fur, for Morgana to do anything at all.

“Hold still, Krystal, the sooner you stop the quicker it’ll be for us all,” Miyu hissed as the fox wriggled. 

Krystal whined.  _ I  _ hate  _ taking baths I don’t wanna get wet you let me up and I’ll go dry myself! _

“There, would you turn her over so I can get her belly? Thank you—on your legs, this time, I don’t want to dry her back again.”

The hot air felt very uncomfortable against Krystal’s skin, it was too warm in the already stifling atmosphere of the bathroom (this absolutely had nothing to do with the fact that Morgana had to refill the tub twice), and the wet fur made it twice as disagreeable. But with Miyu holding both sets of legs apart, perhaps too far, Krystal could do little to fight back. She could only growl and whine in protest.

She hated baths, not because she liked being dirty but because she  _ hated  _ being told what to do. She had not wanted to get up  _ this  _ early in the morning and she had  _ not  _ wanted a bath at all; but each time something like this happened, Miyu’s very presence reminded her forcefully that she was  _ not  _ in charge of her own life, even as Krystal was literally dragged by the tail to the tub. Things had only gotten worse since then. Thankfully Morgana had caught sight of her being manhandled and shouted quite a bit at Miyu before they got to work.

Setting the dryer down on the counter, and unplugging it, Morgana helped Miyu carry Krystal out of the bathroom. She was limp in their arms, having exhausted all her energy in fighting. They had little trouble putting her inside the carrier waiting just by the door.

“Can you take her down?” Miyu asked. “I’ve got to clean up our mess.”

“Honey, let the suits take care of it.”

“I know, but still I want to do something useful before I tear someone’s head off. Thank you for being patient with me.” She hurried back to the bathroom and started picking up strewn towels and soaps before Morgana could reply. 

Krystal huddled into herself as the carrier started to swing. Not uncomfortably, just the small rocking back-and-forth of movement as Morgana descended the stairs. She was still feeling cold from the shock of leaving the humid bathroom into the chilliness of the house. The carrier door was a steel grid which unfortunately sent a breeze right through her. The noise didn’t help either. She shied away as Morgana turned the corner, passing by two bullish fellows whose horns curved upward, carrying a heavy sheet of some material for whatever reason. There were  _ anthropoi _ all over the place, removing heavy furniture and tearing up carpeting. The government had owned this house before Miyu came to live there, and when it came time for her to vacate the premises, they wasted no time in tearing it down. The furniture would be transported later. The living room was cleaned out, the pictures had all been taken off the walls, and the kitchen was in the process of being demolished

The house door opened and a flurry of impressions flew at her. There was the cold air (the wind had picked up right as Morgana turned the doorknob); there was the bright sun, which hurt her eyes; there was the sound of hammers and saws and cursings and shouted orders; and there was the one cry that she had grown to hate:

“ _ Kryssy! _ ”

“No, not now, Caenda, get back in the car. Fay! I thought I told you to keep them in their seats!”

“They wanted to see the worker—”

“I don’t care and we’re late by half an hour. Caenda, James, get in the car.”

“Awww, mom.”

“Don’t you ‘awww’ me, young man, do as you’re told.”

There was the sound of a trunk opening amidst the hullabaloo. Krystal had closed her eyes and hid her face beneath a forelimb, wishing this would end quickly, and half hoping it was only a nightmare and she’d wake up and everything would be back to normal. Well, as normal as she could get it.

There was a thud, and she felt the vibration pass through her as the carrier was settled down; the bright light vanished as the door slammed shut. Thankfully the air was warmer, the vehicle having been idling for some time now.

“Mommy, why is she back there?”

“To give her privacy from you rascals. You know that foxes are not dogs or cats, they don’t like being played with.”

_ I wish Caenda would take a hint, _ Krystal added sarcastically. The last week had been just short of hell for her. James, the little brat, was faster than Caenda and quicker than Krystal, and often caught her during their high-speed chases up and down the house. She longed to bite at him but feared Miyu’s wrath; fortunately, Morgana was having none of that and often shouted at the two hybrids for roughhousing, allowing Krystal time to escape to her hideaway.

Outside it was more tolerable but still just as bad. The boy didn’t seem to care about thorns or tightly packed together branches, and completely ruined Miyu’s lily-flower bushes just a day after he and Caenda were introduced. She had resorted to tunneling beneath the shed near the backyard fence to escape, and would often huddle there as the hybrids plotted how to best get at her. Fay was no help, she continually forgot she was a grown woman and not a kid anymore. Morgana couldn’t be everywhere at once, and Miyu hardly cared except that she didn’t hurt her daughter.

Eventually, though, she would have settled down into dealing with this new upheaval to her life had things not changed again. This morning for instance, took her completely by surprise. It was at the crack of dawn that Miyu had opened her closet door and taken her out. Then, while she was still groggy and trying to process what was going on, Miyu had taken out every bit of her bedding and stuffed it in a laundry basket then bundled her up for what she later learned was the bathroom. Now, here she was, in the backseat of Miyu’s van going who knows—wait!

Krystal shot up in surprise—and yelped as her head collided with the top of her carrier. She massaged the top of her head with a foreleg while grimacing. Surely they can't be moving? Why go to another place when the house they were living in (as awful as it was) was  _ fine _ ? She turned around with difficulty, and started to examine her cage. Unfortunately nothing much presented itself other than a small mat—plastic walls shut out the rest of the world, with diagonal slits on two of them. All alongside her were bags and more bags, about as much as could be stuffed into the backseat and leave room for children (or Fay, since there were only two seats in the middle) to sit.

_ Where are we going? _ she wondered. 

As if in answer to her question, Miyu came out calling to them: “I’m coming, I’m coming—thank you sirs, I am very pleased with your promptness, yes, put it into storage until it’s time to transport, all expenses have been paid for—wait for me!”

Another door opened, the van shifted slightly to the right, a babble of voices, an engine starting—" _ Please don't crash the car this time, Miyu!" "Oh come now, Fay, let her alone; it's usually you who causes her to crash." "I didn't ask for your opinion." "Well too bad!" _ —and then Krystal was lurched into the side of her box with movement.

_ Ouch _ , she whined.  _ That hurt! Damnit, woman. _

While Krystal was coping with disorientation Miyu kept looking anxiously at the clock—a digital-interface, reading  _ 08:27— _ and at the road as she eased out of Roswell Drive and onto Valmoore Street.  _ I hope we can get there,  _ she thought, immediately accelerating beyond the speed limit.

Morgana, who sat on the left, clenched her arm-rests, gold-painted claws sinking in the faux leather. “Miyu, please, slow down. You’ll only get more later.”

Fay on the other hand wasn't worried at all; she was tickling little James—who either had inherited his dark color from his mother or father—and laughing too. Caenda was eagerly participating. Ordinarily, with her nerves this tightly strung, Miyu would have told them to be quiet, but this time she humored Fay, and let them be.

“Don’t tell me to slow down,” she hissed.

“Yes I shall when you— _ that’s a stop sign! _ ”

Miyu slammed on the brakes and the van shrieked and skidded as the wheels locked up. After sliding this way and that, Miyu turning the wheel frantically to avoid getting flipped over, the van came to a stop just before the sign.

“Yay, let’s do it again!” the children cheered once they had recovered their breath.

“No, we will not,” Morgana said. “Miyu, if you pull this stunt one more time, I will force you to stop and let me drive.”

“All right, all right.”

Lights suddenly flashed and a short blare of a siren alerted them that there was a patrol car behind. Miyu cursed to herself, she had forgotten about the escort she was supposed to have. Poor fellow must have been left behind in the dust when she shot off like that. A door opened and closed. Miyu sighed and put on the brakes. She rolled down her window just as the officer reached the van.

“Ma’am, I know of your position and status with the government, but you must obey the law at all times. I will not hesitate to write you your last ticket on Zoness, understood?” The officer was a friendly-faced canine  _ anthropos _ , with a droopy face and long ears. Normally he was an easy-going fellow except when Miyu went over the speed limit, again, and again.

“Thanks, Roger,” she said.

“Don’t worry, I am under orders to see you get there alive.”

She nodded and smiled reassuringly. Despite his demeanor there was a twitch of his eyebrows as he said this. After inspecting the van’s passengers—both kids were just barely hopping out of their seats trying to look at the patrol car—he returned to his vehicle and started up the lights again.

Miyu eased onto Main Street at a more sedate pace. Immediately six more police cars fell into position around her, hogging up to three lanes, lights swirling and sirens blaring. Fortunately the usual morning traffic was absent, and Miyu suspected that it had been diverted for her benefit. Knowing her luck with driving it was beneficial—driving had never been one of her strong points. All her expertise were spacecraft oriented. Ever since coming to live back on Zoness she'd taken lessons on  _ how  _ to drive, or at the very least, know what all those funny signs on the sides of the road meant.

She shook her head, trying to forget the embarrassment as a memory of her totaling the car on the day she got her first license surfaced with alarming clarity. Miyu hastily searched for something to distract herself.

“So… Morgana, can you… uh… tell me about your husband?”

The pantheress looked up in surprise. “You’ve never heard the story?”

“I… I’d leave because of painful memories,” she admitted. “Missing Raye, and all of that. I couldn’t handle the pressure.”

Actually, the problem was two-fold, and it sat in a box in the backseat. Ever since the war had ended and her mind had begun to slow down, Miyu had started wrestling with a dilemma. A very big one. The Raye who had gotten her pregnant with Caenda was gone, but the one who had reignited the spark in her soul and been so magnanimous toward Krystal was  _ also _ Raye. Moreover, he remembered everything.

But there was that other Raye, the third—second?—man she had encountered with Raye’s name, personality, and everything, except this was obviously a different person. He was called “Hook” by his friends and had a human girlfriend called Apollyon, an admittedly handsome lady by their standards, and just as weird. He also had an intractable temper and was uncooperative. She continually wondered how he was able to keep going after getting shot and mauled by the Blue Bitch, as Krystal was called among the Dynastic soldiers, time and again.

This “Hook” fellow aside, what worried her was the implications of her Raye.  _ Was _ he her Raye still? Were clones merely copies of their templates or could they actually be the same person in the right circumstances? It made her head hurt to think about it, and she shied away from even considering it, but as bad thoughts were wont to do it trickled closer toward the forefront of her mind. She had avoided all discussion about human husbands through the week, always finding something to do, as Morgana and Fay chattered about their “prowess” in many areas, most of which verged on the pornographic.

Now on the eve of meeting Raye—whichever one he was, she was glad anyway—she wanted to catch up on what she missed. There'd be time aplenty to sort out identities; and she suspected that it really didn't matter anyway. Her Raye remembered her, no matter if he was a clone, and that was good enough for her.

Or was it, really?

"Aha, I always wondered why you never sat with us," Morgana said, grinning coyly at her.

Miyu flushed in embarrassment and mumbled, "It wasn't because of… never mind."

"Well, well, where to begin, where to begin—oh, aha," she clicked her fingers "first off, his name.  _ Johnson  _ is his  _ last  _ name, his first name is—wait for it—Cadfael!"

Miyu frowned. "Cad- _ vile _ ?" she asked.

Morgana nodded. "Yes, that is how it's pronounced."

"Odd name," Fay remarked, wanting to join in the conversation.

"Pierce is an odd name, too, you know.” Morgana turned to look at Fay. The canine only grinned and ducked her head. "He is a "Welsh-man", or that's what he describes himself as—I'd never heard of "Welsh-man" before—but he explained to me it was one of their cultures.” 

"Raye is German," Miyu mentioned, moving into another lane to get past a lone and slow moving lorry. The police escort obligingly followed suit. " _ Seine Sprache ist hübsch _ † _ , _ " she added laughingly.

Morgana grimaced. "It sounds barbaric," she said hesitantly.

"Don't worry, I thought the same way when I met him. Drove my translator bonkers just to get it right; the syntax and pronunciation was awful to figure out. Now," she said, steering the conversation back where it started, "about…  _ Cad- _ vile."

"Ah, yes." Morgana was reflective, her tawny grey-brown eyes staring down at the dashboard. "Right. You know about prisoners-of-war, right? I was one of them. Two, three years as one, and only released as part of the peace terms. He didn’t like that, my Cadfael, but orders were orders.”

"I do know of them, and what a shame." Miyu nodded. One of the rare times her squad had actually managed to get a human to surrender they would cautiously disable his ship (keeping guns trained on him should he try and attack), then tow it by tractor-beam to a nearby cruiser. But those times were rare—very rare. They would rather crash into an ice moon and take one of the enemy with them than be captured. These were so uncommon there was as much chance of one happening as both of Corneria’s moons aligning exactly together to block out the sun; and the poor fellow was usually a fanatic and had a bomb concealed on his person, or committed suicide well before they had secured his fighter.

It was the army, the special forces, which had the bulk of captures. According to how Morgana explained it, her job had been to assist in securing enemy planets during the war—which was started to be called "the Star War", a bit of a cliché name taken from an old sci-fi flick from nearly two hundred years ago (thankfully it was properly rated for Caenda).

“About four years ago, or so, my squad was ambushed on Mara Sar—trust me, you don’t want to go there—stupidly in range of a sniper nest. Before you knew it,  _ bang _ , we were dropping like flies. We couldn't see the enemy let alone shoot them—the best we could hope for was pointing guns in the general direction of the shots… in other words, shooting and hoping something had hit. It was no use. I was wounded in the shoulder, fell, hit my head on a rock, and woke up in a military transport, bound for some unknown planet. At first I assumed I’d been violated, but—”

“Morgana!” Fay exclaimed with faux-astonishment, covering the children’s ears and failing. “Do remember where you are!”

“Whoops.” She grinned. “Sorry.”

Miyu laughed nervously. “I kicked Raye a few times in the beginning, though more for perceived infractions than actual ones. He was one of those fanatics that believed we were the scum of the galaxy, before, well, falling in love with me. Anyway, did you meet Cadfael on that transport?”

“Good heavens, no. I thought you knew already.”

“I don’t, can you tell me?”

“I met him at the prison. It’s funny in an odd way, but he was as almost as much of a prisoner as I was. When I woke up from the tranquilizers I was isolated in a cell; this was apparently standard for all new prisoners. Now, don’t go thinking it was one of those horrible pits propaganda paints them as—”

“Trust me,” Miyu said, “I’d take one of them over that ice hellholle Raye and I were trapped on.”

“—still it was no palace either. They were clean, and well-maintained, but that was it. Austere. I hadn’t been there for longer than a week of local time before I met Cadfael. I was afraid of him at first, you know.” She checked her nails, seemingly inspecting them for damage. “He was honestly the first human I ever saw, and he was very scary. But what happened next laughed my fear to pieces.”

“What happened?”

She giggled. “He was very… drunk. Not moody or furious, but… obnoxious drunk. He was a guard at the prison, but things were so lax that discipline was almost nonexistent. Being so far away from the war and the Dynasty loosened them up, and even being charged with ten thousand prisoners didn’t keep them focused.”

“Weren’t they afraid of all of you escaping?”

“Of course not. There were no ships there at all, none that could carry more than a few dozen people anyway, and the only docking berth large enough for a warship was empty for most of the time. Anyway, I thought he was a vile man, like the propaganda says, but the first thing he did was collapse beside my cell door and launch into his life-story. He didn’t even attempt to take advantage of me, just started rambling.”

Miyu had to stifle a chuckle. “You mean that man became  _ your _ husband?”

“I could say the same for you!” she shot back. “You, and a  _ fanatic _ .”

“Fair enough. What was his problem anyway?”

“Well… most of it I can’t say for his sake, but… what I can tell you is that he was reassigned there. Something to do with his religion, I believe, he told me the Monarch didn’t like it at all. I, being the good soldier, tried to keep myself hating him but it was no use. There was no obvious mistreatment and Cadfael seemed to like me enough to keep on coming down to talk. Was it like that with you and Raye?”

“Uh…” Miyu looked back at the children, and Fay who was smirking most uncomfortably. “I can’t really tell you, not right now, no. We had to depend on one another to stay alive, use our talents to survive the cold nights.”

“I see. Well, in time—and believe me, the local day was  _ really _ long—the warden deemed me of good enough behavior to be released and mingle with the rest.”

“Wait  _ what _ ?!”

“It’s true. I told you discipline was lax. But look at it from his perspective—out in the middle of nowhere, with no ships of any major size, and nothing to create an insurgency. The prison from what I remember was a gigantic space station orbiting what I  _ think _ was a red dwarf. There were no other planets or things nearby, and the station itself was mostly jail-cell and mess hall. Every three months a transport would come with either supplies or more prisoners—everyone was quickly hustled back into their cells then—and that was that.

“So, Cadfael was more than just the drunk prison guard. He was also a spiritual leader of sorts, a “chaplain” I think is the word. Every sevenday there’d be a station-wide service, and he’d be leading it. He had a little beaten brown book he’d read from and everyone would listen, even the guards who, honestly, were usually bored.”

“Did he stop drinking?”

“Oh yes, eventually. It was very hard to get him to stop. I had to fight tooth and nail to keep him from that bottle, and even ordered the warden to confiscate all the liquor that wasn’t medicinal.”

“I bet he didn’t like that,” opined Fay, who had heard this many times before.

“Definitely. His anger, though short lived, was  _ terrifying _ to behold, and he had to be restrained for his own good. When sufficiently enraged he could punch holes in the walls, and never mind the broken bones.”

“Good God,” Miyu exclaimed. “I can definitely see why he was reassigned… uh, is that the right word?”

“To put it charitably. Thankfully, though, as he grew more sober and resorted less to the bottle he became gentle and quiet, barely raising his voice except when someone displeased him. It’s really amazing how well he had turned around. Soon everyone, including the warden, looked to him as a counselor, someone they could trust.”

“Even the prisoners?”

“They already did so. Mostly because of that book he read from, they demanded copies of it so they didn’t have to wait seven days to hear him. Before I knew it I was falling in love with him. Actually, no, I  _ was _ already in love with him. Something inside me went out to him that very first time we met. You can imagine how giddy I was when I mustered up the courage to “ask him out” at last. He was surprised by it, really.”

“Well, then he was the luckiest man there.”

“Tell that to the others who had relations there. It wasn’t exactly the most well-kept secret. I figured out there was something going on when the guards that passed my door weren’t yelling any insults  _ or _ the prisoners snarling and hissing at them. There was some of that, but mostly from the newer arrivals.”

“How the hell did the Dynasty not know about it? They did come there once a month right?”

“I’m guessing is they did know and didn’t care about it. Wasn’t high priority to keep racially or ideologically pure. You see, Miyu, your situation wasn’t unique, as shocking as that may be. War tends to pragmatize all but the fanatics, and they tend to get themselves killed before it matters. I’m pretty sure all of the fraternizing was what kept the possibility of prisoner revolution extremely low. No one wanted to start a riot and hurt their loved ones, and I was not the only one who had kids there.”

“That’s… very, I don’t know, strange?” Fay said.

“It was strange, Fay, you know that saying ‘war makes for strange bedfellows’ or something?”

“I think that was about politics,” Miyu suggested.

“Whatever, politics and war, same thing really, one’s less bloodier than the other. But I sure am glad it happened, or I would have never met Cadfael.”

“Same here. Pierce is cute, and I’ll be the first to admit I wanted Raye, but… well, circumstance said otherwise. He’s really a great guy when you get to know him.”

Miyu snorted. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to yell at you.”

“Well,  _ maybe _ !”

“By the way, Miyu, when are we getting off the highway?”

“Shouldn’t be long, the head car ought to—ah, there he goes.”

The police escort gradually moved off to the side, with those on the right side slowing down to let her pass them. They proceeded in a long line down the exit ramp onto a similarly deserted road, which was called “Spaceway 13”, and went on their way. Their destination had actually been quite visible for the past half-hour—a long line stretching up to the heavens.

Most spacecraft were too large and unwieldy to bring through a planetary atmosphere. Only specialized ships, like the outdated  _ Dreadnaught _ -class heavy cruiser or the transatmospheric Mark I  _ Arwing _ -class superiority attack-fighter, could safely go through without complete disintegration. As the war with the Dynasty dragged on, and with  _ anthropinos _ fleets routinely being routed by their superior human counterparts, entire classes had to be scrapped and redesigned. Thus the ancient space elevator, used only in a few isolated parts of the Lylat like Titania or Sauria, was reintroduced  _ en mass _ to ferry goods and soldiers quickly up to their space-only ships.

The Zoness Space Dynamics Elevator was one of sixteen that spanned the planet’s equator, linked to sixteen identical massive stations and spacedocks in geostationary orbit. Zoness had served as the primary supplier of troops and medical supplies during the war, and in the last battle for Lylat before the war’s end, Zoness was targeted specifically to bring down as many of them as possible. Five were still being rebuilt, and fortunately the cables themselves had escaped damage.

Miyu looked up at the thing. Up there was the ship that would take her and Raye to a new world, someplace far away from Lylat, from the war and everyone who hated them here. 

“I do declare, they were serious about that escort.” 

Morgana’s words broke her from her reverie and her eyes refocused. “Oh dammit, this is why we should’ve been here two hours ago!”

“Hush, now, you really think we’d beat them by time alone?”

She had a point. A sizable crowd of protesters clustered about the fence separating them from the spaceport and also blocking the road. There was a low and angry buzz underneath it all, and the signs being waved about did not help matters. They contained many epithets, most of it directed at the aliens—” _ Naked F*#%ers _ !”, “ _ Filthy Apes _ !”, “ _ Skinners _ !”—but several choice ones also at the “collaborators”, which were not fit for reproduction. It was just as well that the kids didn’t know what those words meant.

Holding back the crowd, and even now clearing them off the road, was not local law enforcement but military police, and they were not gentle. It looked like it was just short of a riot being started. The road was only just being made clear.

“Mummy, why are all the people so mad?” 

Caenda, bless her, didn’t know what all of the commotion was about. She had stayed quiet, listening to Morgana with open eyes. James however had a very good idea of what it was. “Them dirty  _ xenos _ keepin’ me from my daddy,” he hissed, clenching his hands, blood droplets forming on his palms as his catlike nails scratched him.

“James, what have I told you about language?”

“Sorry, mom,” he muttered. 

“Who are they?” Fay pointed, her long arm reaching past the seated women in the front.

Standing before the gate, rifles shouldered and legs apart, were the oddest looking aliens they had ever seen. Physically, they were indistinguishable from the humans—two armed, two legged, humanesque torso, and proportionally sized head. No tails or other appendages, that’s what made them different from the  _ anthropoi _ . But that's where it ended. The shortest was easily six foot, almost dwarf-like compared to their fellows, and covered head to toe in bulky white body armor that glistened when they moved. Their weapons resembled spears of old, increasing their resemblance to knights. Knights on steroids.

Miyu gulped. If that armor indicated anything, they were as solidly built as some of the largest bullish bodybuilders Corneria had to boast. The crowd didn’t look like they wanted to be near them, though they were quick to shout abuse to which there was no response. 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” she said as she carefully guided her van to the gate, which opened to let them pass. The escort turned around and departed. The armored aliens let them pass, but some turned their helmeted heads toward them until they had disappeared into the spaceport before facing forward again.

“Creepy.” 

“You can say that again.”

All three ladies were thinking back to the announcement the government had made. All it had told them was that it had found a solution that would solve their homesickness permanently and get them away from those who wanted their heads. Neither had given thought of what it meant, and none had considered it meant turning to an outside alien power. For that’s what it was, another alien civilization had opened their arms to ease any tensions that remained between the two nations.

Miyu didn’t know what to expect. The Thessian Commonwealth, the largest non-warring entity after the Dynasty and the Federation, was probably a likely candidate. It was multispecies like them and quite diverse, led by the gentle Asari hegemonists yet militarily weak; it had escaped assimilation by virtue of the fact the Dynasty was in an attrition war with Corneria. Perhaps the Verian Kingdom, formerly poised to enter the Federation just before war broke out and retreated rather than be drawn in, was another. This was unlikely—from what she remembered from her classes their soldiers resembled nothing of the aliens outside before the crowd. Xenopolitics was not a subject she had focused on in school, and it didn’t matter much at the time of her recruitment. She brushed it from her mind as unimportant, she’d find out later.

They parked in a lot full of other cars and got out quietly. Even the kids, normally excited by such things, were not as loud, the introspective mood of their mothers infectious. The cars around them would either be delivered later or resold. Miyu hadn’t made any arrangements for the van—she assumed Raye would have had it taken care of, wherever he was, and where they were going she certainly wouldn’t need it again.

“You go on ahead, I’ll get Krystal.”

Morgana nodded and led the children toward the spaceport terminal, Fay skipping alongside. Things were so tight they skipped going through the building, as the police line shepherding confused  _ anthropinos _ parents and their children corralled them before the kids could slip through the hazard tape.

Miyu reached into the backseat and pulled out the carrier, shutting the door as she went. There was growling from the cage—Krystal had apparently been asleep.

“Hush, you!” Miyu said. “You’ll have all the time in the world to sleep, but right now we have a date with Raye.”

A long drawn out whine.

She sighed to herself and started walking. Krystal was such a grouch. Imagine if Raye  _ hadn’t _ given his say so to let her stay with them. Contrary to what Morgana had thought, Miyu did in fact look for information about foxes, but only insofar as what happened to them in the wild, and what she found was so depressing it made her feel almost sorry for Krystal.

_ I only hope that our destination has a high fence and no forest, _ she thought.  _ It’s a scary world out there, even for her. _

"Mom, mom, you've got to see this! It is ginormous! Come quick!" Miyu looked up to see Caenda racing back towards her. "It's the biggest spaceship I've ever seen! It's even bigger than the ones on  _ Insanity's Reality: Captain Vengeance _ !"

“Really, now, Caenda, it can’t be that big. It’s probably a shuttle or something to take us up. Gotta be on time,” she added quietly. Traveling up in a plane could take the better part of a day, for even with inertial dampers the Gs could still induce nausea in children and the unprepared. She herself had not been in the seat of a spaceplane for a long time.

Caenda grabbed her by the hand. “C’mon!” she urged.

In the distance stretched the massive cable of the space elevator. Even from here Miyu could see a climber descending, a gigantic cylinder about twenty storeys high and as wide as a retail store. Most of its bulk was used for transporting cargo, but the very top was reserved for passengers if they wanted to go the scenic route for a few days. Fortunately it was out of the way of the runway, stuck out as it was on an artificial island.

Her mother laughed and let herself get pulled along. They entered the spaceport proper. Sure enough, the “biggest spaceship ever” was a spaceplane—a massive vehicle with wings wider than it was long, almost delta-shaped, and curved. It was one of the new  _ Atlantis XVI _ types, capable of carrying over four hundred passengers at a time, and with five decks.

People were entering it, climbing up the ramp in single-file—more families like them. They seemed to almost exclusively be canine and feline  _ anthropoi _ , with a few reptilians mixed with them. There were also more of those white armored giant aliens mingled among them, standing about at attention. Unlike those outside these held what seemed to be miniature siege cannons. Miyu gulped. Just what were these people and why did the Cornerians allow them into their airspace? Then, just as quickly as Caenda was pulling her, those thoughts fled.

Forgetting Krystal was in her hands Miyu let go of both daughter and cage (there came whines and yelps as the carrier crashed onto the ground) and raced towards Raye. He had stepped out from behind two of the giants, arms held open, a large grin on his face.

“ _ Raye, oh my God you are here! _ ” she shrieked, literally jumping into his arms. He lifted her off the ground and swung his wife around in a circle, before setting her back on her feet and planting a kiss right on her furry nose.

“ _ Ja, ich bin hier, meine Liebe _ ‡ _ , _ ” he answered.

“I thought I’d never see you again—” she began but he hushed her.

“Let’s wait until we are aboard the  _ Silmarilli _ . The captain is eager to get back on schedule.”

“But you haven’t even seen your daughter yet—!”

“I’m here, mommy.” Miyu turned around to see Caenda lugging a vibrating carrier from which emitted whines and growls. “You could’ve given her to me instead of dropping her like that,” she said, with some crossness. 

“I’m sorry, Caenda, but I wanted to see your father.”

She sniffed. “I wanna see the spaceship! Here, you take this—” and thrust the carrier at her.

Raye caught hold of it. “I’ll take it.”

“Thanks, mister.” She started to go toward the plane, obviously looking for James. Miyu wasn’t having any of it. 

“Caenda Alissa Belial, don’t you recognize your own father?”

“Nope. He doesn’t look like a panther. He doesn’t even have a tail, either!” She swished her own, which was even shorter than her mother’s but still a respectable length.

Raye chuckled. “That’s because humans, my people, are not like your mother’s people.” He knelt down. “But you see, there’s more than just having a tail or fur that makes me your father.” He pointed at her nose and face. “That comes from me. Your eyes too come from my family. Have you seen such a shade of blue before?”

“Mommy has blue.”

“Ah, well, you and I will get to know one another better.”

“Okies!”

“Miyu, go with her.” Raye nodded toward the plane. “I’ll handle Krystal,” he added at her pointed glance at the carrier. She hesitated for a moment but then nodded. Miyu took Caenda by the hand and led her away.

* * *

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

* * *

Raye waited until they were alone, then set the carrier down. Unlocking the door he reached in and pulled out the fox. Krystal didn’t even struggle, just went limp, whether out of exhaustion or simple fear. He hefted her into his arms like a heavy cat.

“So, Krystal, my enemy,” he said. “We meet again. You and I have a lot of catching up to do. So let me make myself very, very clear. I never wanted you, I would have gladly abandoned you the second we got off that ship. But sadly Miyu is my wife and she will have her way. So I will do my best to keep from killing you, is this understood?

The fox nodded, vulpine eyes unreadable. How markedly different Cornerians were from animals, they looked the same superficially, sometimes too close enough to give one the case of the shivers—but never did they look as if someone had taken a coat of fur and an animal skull and stuck them onto a humanoid body. There was something altogether unsettling about it, one that in spite of two years of peace and interacting with dignitaries as part of his duties towards Jessica had never really gone away. 

“That’s a good girl.” He ruffled her head. “Be on your best behavior and I may even let you out of this cage on the  _ Silmarilli _ .” He placed her back inside and shut the door. “Miyu would like that, I am sure.”

Picking her up Raye started for the plane ramp. The absurd irony of this situation was not lost on him. Two years ago, when he had first met her in person, she had been a right royal pain in the behind. Beating him, kicking him, even shooting him. Abuse that further served to reinforce his xenophobia upon rebirth.

And then there was that mental torture she had inflicted upon him. The psychologists back on the ecumenpolis of Old Earth had assured him that the mental trauma would have no adverse effect on his reborn psychology or personality. They had even commented that had his original body been rescued from the ice moon his brain could have been completely reconstructed, all of the affected areas and memories removed, without forgetting his wife. Just a minor “blackout” of two or three days would be felt by his brain until his new mentality had mapped it over.

But of course this was not the case. He still remembered, in clear and precise detail, all that had happened to him. He could even distinguish between the “reality” of the memory, where he had been psychically tortured, and the actual reality where, as if through a clouded mirror, he could see Krystal standing before him, with a furious and contorted expression of hatred on her face as she plumbed his brain. It was funny, the combination of the immediacy of the memory and the detachedness of another psychology.

It was just as unsettling as seeing Krystal’s physical self for the first time since the  _ Eternal Fire _ .

Raye nodded to one of the giants as he passed. To his relief, instead of merely meeting his gesture, the alien responded, releasing a hand from its cannon and touched the side of its helmet in a salute.

The Imperial Dominion was among the largest polities in the galaxy, spanning an entire quadrant completely, with outposts extending well beyond the galactic rim and above and below the plane. What they lacked in numbers of battle fleets and soldiers they more than made up for in technology and a hundred client nations under their hegemony. That was one of the conditions they had offered to Monarch Jessica when she reached out to them for a neutral third party to mediate the peace; by accepting, the Dynasty would be free to continue its own rule and law, so long as a yearly tithe of resources and military assets were paid, and in exchange the Dominion would protect them and begin construction of jumpgates in their key systems.

It was also among the most ancient polities in the galaxy. Apart from the secretive and hostile cybernetic Collective, the Dominion had existed for longer than humankind had been in space, easily over several thousand years.

He still wasn’t sure what Jessica had been thinking when she accepted their offer. They were too close to the ancient Aalaag Nomocracy, who had first conquered Old Earth when humankind had only just mastered the atomic bomb, and enslaved them completely, reducing them to the status of “cattle”, or little more than glorified pets. Eventually the Aalaag left the planet after their internal politics forced a change, but their technology remained, and from this the Dynasty was born. They had taken to the stars, wiped out the Aalaag to the last alien, and expanded ruthlessly from thenceforth. The Dominion seemed benevolent enough, and had not taken advantage of the  _ Eternal Fire _ ’s severe damages or the weakened Dynastic fleets, only offered humanitarian aid and an offer to restore peace. There was something he couldn’t quite get his head around, but it was there, nagging at him. The Dynasty had subscribed to the “dark forest” way of thinking, which was borne out by the Nomocracy and reinforced later by the Cornerians, who fired shots as soon as they made contact, and it was still ingrained inside him no matter how hard he tried to shake it. To encounter a polity that did the exact opposite of what he expected was suspicious.

He left the aliens behind and went inside. Usually ships of this type were designed for cheaper transport of cargo, and would have most of their interior taken up by giant compartments loaded down with cargo, no doubt intended for transport to Cornerian ships. This one was full of seats and chattering families. He was not interested in chitchat, as some humans (who had come down for the ride anyway in spite of Imperial restrictions) tried to hail him, but moved toward the front where an elevator would take him to the top level. There were some perks to being a Prince.

He punched one of the buttons that would take him to the top floor. When the door opened, however, there was the last person he expected would be down here.

“Aha, there you are, mi’boy!”

“Cadfael,” Raye began. “I thought you were with your wife?”

“I was but you were late in the coming. I went to find you.”

“It’s all right, I was catching up with my own family.”

“Well then come on, she’s waiting for you upstairs. By God, you would have thought she’d never seen a human before, the way she looked at me!”

Cadfael, his old military instructor. Unlike Raye, who was pale as a blind grub and lean as a horse, Cadfael was solidly built, easily seven foot, and completely black. When he smiled the whiteness of his teeth flashed like lightning in the night, and his green-tinged golden eyes shone like a star. He was also an exuberant fellow, prone to joviality and fast in friendship.

It was hard to imagine him as someone who would turn to drink. Especially when he clapped Raye on the back, with enough force to make the shorter-by-a-foot man almost stumble and drop his cargo. There came yips and growls as Krystal made his displeasure known at being forced to scramble to keep from falling forward.

“Mr. Belial, may I take her?”

Raye checked his surprise—that voice had come out of nowhere. Sure enough, hidden behind Cadfael’s bulk, was a smaller man with pale green eyes and a melancholy expression. He was like Raye, dark-haired and also pale-skinned, but the resemblance ended there.

“Yes, of course, Mr…?”

“Timothy, sir. Timothy MacLeod Johnson.” He held out his hand. Raye took it and shook firmly, noting that his grip trembled a little despite strength. Then he gave the cage over.

“Watch out, she’s a mean one.”

“I can manage, sir.”

Raye nodded and turned back to Cadfael. “If I had the time I could have told Miyu humanity was not made up of just me and Pierce. You are a sight for even human eyes.”

“Hardy? Ah, the medic. Kinda shrimpy isn’t he?”

“Compared to you, maybe.” Raye had to fight a grin. “He’s not a fighter, you know.”

“Still I’d have never thought him to  _ also _ score a lady, if you know—” Cadfael was saying with a wink but Raye decided that was it.

“Enough. Let the poor man speak for himself.” Then he added, not wanting to hurt Cadfael’s feelings. “How about your lady? I’ve not met her.”

“She’s a wonder and a joy, as I’m sure yours is. I am still very much surprised she can stand me. I know I am an intimidating fellow but the circumstances we met in were less than ideal.”

Raye decided to be tactful. “You as prison staff and she as prisoner?”

“Yes.”

“How about you, Timothy?”

Timothy answered: “I have not gone looking, thank you.”

_ All right, that was strange, _ Raye thought but chose not to comment on it.

They waited in silence for a time as the elevator ascended. Timothy was almost invisible, with Krystal’s shuffling inside the carrier the only noise. Raye had a hunch she was mightily uncomfortable with such candid talk and smirked to himself.

Cadfael must have heard the sounds because he asked, “So what’s up with the wee beasty you brought with you?”

“A creature Miyu picked up to keep her company while away from me,” he invented on the spot. “It’s one of those imported things.”

“By God, is that a fox?” Cadfael turned and leaned down before the carrier door, peering inside. “I’ve not seen a one since Tyrador 9. I wonder where the aliens got her.”

“I’m sure they are pretty common ‘round here.”

Timothy cleared his throat. “Actually this particular species is found only on Corneria, and are rare to the point of extinction in the wild, much like on Old Earth. Any foxes there are domesticated thoroughly. I’ve been meaning to ask, because this does not look like a domesticated fox.”

“Oh, really?” Raye quickly shooed Cadfael’s finger from the cage door. He wasn’t sure how foxes reacted to unknown people sticking their fingers at them, but if they were like dogs it wouldn’t be pretty; and knowing Krystal, it was best if she didn’t attack anyone along the way to their new home. The goal was to rehabilitate her, however that was going to work.

“Yes, this one looks feral. Domestic Cornerian foxes have many breeds and types, and only the “wild” ones are those found in their parks. This one looks exactly like a wild fox.”

“Fascinating, I’ll have to talk with Miyu.” Privately he made a note to begin the “domestication” of Krystal as soon as possible.

“Still a believer in panspermia, Timothy?” Cadfael straightened up. “The idea that Cornerians are actually human?”

“I am sure the Dynasty’s history is quite clear on the purity of the species. Not even the Aalaag removed us from our homeworld.”

“Timothy, my boy, c’mon, you can’t trust Dynasty history. History’s written by the winners, and if it ain’t all other dissenting points are suppressed—”

“Spare me, I’ve heard enough about the Final Coup.”

The doors opened and they stepped out. This section of the plane was circular and open-windowed, with great expanses of transparisteel for the passengers’ enjoyment. There were no great beautiful sights to see, the sky outside was still cloudy and grey, for winter was nearly upon them. As journeys did not take long, thanks to inertial dampers (what were erroneously known as gravity diffusers, which itself in reality was a primitive warp drive), comfort was prioritized over long-term: there were tables, chairs, a play area for kids, even an arcade to pass the time, with a bar staffed by a robot included.

More families crowded the place. It was impossible to pick out any familiar faces and the three men stayed close together to avoid getting disentangled, for Cadfael was something of a minor sensation—both because of his extreme height and because about a third of those gathered knew him. In spite of the restrictions placed upon them by their Imperial benefactors, several humans had elected to come down on the plane to meet their families—and owing to the peculiarities of post-war gender demographics on Zoness, almost every  _ anthropos _ here was female. Yet there was the outstanding exception—over in one corner a human woman played with two cubs while a pantherine man stood over her protectively; in another a powerfully built but squat canid was embracing a woman almost two times shorter than he was. The separation had been hard on them all.

Soon they encountered their own families—James was playing tag with Caenda, who was furiously chasing him as he laughed and laughed, and Miyu was talking with Morgana. Cadfael immediately went over to them and gave his wife a bear hug, which she returned with some difficulty. Timothy quietly excused himself and placed Krystal beside her caregiver.

“Sergeant Belial! What took you so long?”

“Hey there, Pierce, I encountered our old friend, Cadfael,” Raye greeted. “Also I was held up a bit by our Imperial friends.” He gestured toward the carrier. “They wanted to know if she was safe to be aboard.”

“Firstly, there’s no way you could have been held up by Cadfael, he was looking for you; and secondly, the Cornerians have already approved of all baggage—Christ, that thing looks nasty.” Major Hardy leaned down to inspect the carrier’s occupant, who shrank back from his hazel eyes. “Is that a fox?”

“The very same.”

“I haven’t seen one since—”

“Since Tyrador, I know. C’mon, you’re surprised by an animal this mundane?”

“You know Aiur has nothing of the sort.” Pierce Hardy stood, an indignant look on his fair face. “We only have bengalaas and dead creep. To me anything resembling an Old Earth creature is astonishing.”

Raye gestured to the crowd surrounding them. “And none of these concern you?”

Pierce snorted. “That’s like calling you an orangutan.”

A voice rolled through the large room, coming from loudspeakers set on the walls: “ _ Please take your seats and fasten your restraints. Departure time in twenty minutes. _ ” Raye took his place beside Miyu, tucking the carrier beneath his feet. Caenda was placed on her other side. Eventually everyone was in place by the time the countdown had finished. 

With a groan of metal, the giant plane taxied out onto the runway. A moment later it started to pick up speed. In an hour’s time they would arrive at their destination: space, and the ship that would take them to their new home.

* * *

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

* * *

The great Imperial vessel fell toward Zoness, eternally and swiftly. Connected as it was by a long docking boom, it easily was five times the station’s size, and thrice even that the length. Just one of its three pods alone could have served as a hull in a pinch. Special shuttles flew to and from, offloading cargo directly to the station. They soon would be loaded onto a climber and sent down to the planet below.

It looked so fragile glittering there in silent orbit, a circle held together by three arms. Very much like Corneria now, propped up by post-war reconstruction efforts.

From an observation lounge reserved specifically for station workers, Fox watched resignedly as another shuttle detached, righted itself, and flew over in quick succession. It filled him with sadness to know that for as long as he could remember, Corneria had always resisted the imperialist and the dictator. His own father may have been a mercenary, yet he fought free of charge when the Lylat War started. Of course, patriotism couldn’t sustain a team forever, and though his pride wouldn’t have allowed it, Peppy accepted the reward in his place for his service against Andross.

How the mighty had fallen—the Dynasty, the greatest threat since the Benomu Empire under mad Andross, now their neighbor in a protectorate deal with the aliens. How f*#%ing ironic. It wasn’t without reason that most of Lylat was in mass protests. Fortunately, for Corneria anyway, their new overlords were proving themselves very generous in providing resources and money to rebuild their shattered economy.

_ There will be no rebuilding the shattered worlds…  _ he thought with somberness.  _ I will never forgive the Dynasty for that. _

The Soran worlds. The colonies. Aquas itself.

Gone. 

All destroyed by the Dynasty’s  _ Wrath of God _ and their mad Monarch. The surge of Dynastic soldiers and battle fleets had proven too much for Corneria—the final battle for Lylat was a humbling reminder. Even before then, the escalating scale at which conflict was waged had forced them to take ever increasingly desperate measures just to survive. More than once Fox had to violate his own conscience when battling them. It was too easy, so very easy to succumb to the propaganda, and think of them as faceless and soulless demons. All it had earned him was an unending headache.

He turned away. The alien ship was not due to leave for another hour, and he had nothing to do except sit and ruminate on his increasingly confused thoughts and emotions until his break was over. He migrated over to a table far from the window, but close to the entrance.

The very first thing he had seen upon waking up was the flat, pasty face of a Dynastic doctor, peering over him as it (he later found out it was a she) checked his vital signs. He almost had a heart-attack then and there, and had to be put under. The next face he saw was that of a canid’s, comfortable and familiar. He thought the first one was a nightmare, and was doubly shocked when he learned the Dynasty had paid for the full reconstruction of his nervous system and brain stem. Such was his confusion it didn’t register when someone—Peppy, perhaps—told him very gently that they were both protectorates under a foreign empire and were bound by certain rules.

The next couple of weeks after that had been, for him, a nightmare. The war was effectively over, all battle fleets and armies were disbanded completely, and worst of all was every paramilitary organization in Lylat was ordered to show up for registration and eventual disbanding. Some of them “survived”, that is they were stripped of their licences to work with government organizations and restricted to only private corporations. This happened to paramilitaries like the Black Nebula and Star Command, who were around Star Fox’s size and equipage but with more men. Others were outright dismantled completely—Star Wolf vanished, and so did Quasar Hounds. Officially, the reasons were that with the protectorate deal, there was no need for the majority of mercenary units to exist now that the downsized Cornerian administration was being superseded by Imperial scribes. Unofficially, they were being disbanded because the Dominion was after something. Fox was sure of it.

It was no coincidence that Star Fox was among those totally disbarred and forbidden to ever use their name again. The  _ Great Fox _ was scrapped, their Arwings trashed, and all equipment sold for parts. It wasn’t because they were among the most decorated units among the Cornerian paramilitaries, or that they were well-beloved by all of the Federation for their daring and valor against the inhuman monsters of the Dynasty. It was because of those long hours and interrogations the Dominion subjugated them to, quizzing each surviving member of Star Fox on every conceivable little thing, their little cybernetic toys recording their statements and the grim-faced “inquisitors” asking calculated questions. This by itself was not unusual—all mercenaries were subjected to this. Fox knew very well the reason why, and had feigned ignorance on most of his activities in the war, claiming amnesia. This was startlingly easy, because he hadn’t done much to begin with, preferring to let his team do what they willed while he merely oversaw, and could claim plausible deniability for his actions—and his later paralysis almost halfway through the war lent credence to his claims. His teammates, however, had no such luxury, and the Dominion eventually learned the truth.

And the truth was, they had no idea where Krystal had gone.

She vanished after the final battle for Corneria, when the Dynastics were repelled decisively after they damaged much of Sora and had just begun moving to the Inner System. Fox learned from the enemy that they had been after him, to score a morale victory against Corneria as well as ensuring their ultimate annihilation. He was all Corneria had for hope. Not so with Krystal. The Dynastics claimed that one of their own had destroyed her in a firefight—if this were the case he would not rest until he tore out the throat of the one responsible—but her body was never found, even though she was seen on declassified security footage several times aboard that damned Titan.

Fox held out hope that she could have escaped. After she failed to assassinate the Final Matriarch she could have fled in the confusion that still resulted from the battle. He knew it was unreasonable, given that the Dominion had agents looking for her everywhere—he himself had been grilled exhaustively on the subject before his insanity plea convinced them. But he still hoped, still believed that she made it out and was laying low.

“Hey there, Fox.”

He jumped. He had not gotten used to company after having spent in a coma for so long. He looked for the speaker.

Falco slid into the seat next to him, his Cornerian-issued flight suit looking very odd on him. “Still thinking about the state of things?”

Fox cracked a smile. “Yeah.”

“I know, man, I know.” He pulled at his collar. “Never liked the damn things. They don’t know how to make them any more.”

“I don’t care. We are fortunate to have a job as is. I’ll miss my Arwing.”

“I hear you, man. Why’d they have to do that?”

“You know full well as I do.” Fox breathed heavily. Strange emotion began to fill him. “We are a threat unless we are under government goons. No bones about it.”

Falco looked around, ostensibly checking out the scenery. The lounge was empty apart from some station crew on their break, talking quietly. A felid was removing a drink from a dispenser against the far wall opposite them, her colors dulled by the station lighting.

Outside, the long length of the Imperial  _ Silmarilli _ loomed in the blinding sunlight of distant Lylat, with subtler colors from Sora highlighting her. The giant cargo containers lining her armored pylons, once full to their maximum capacity, were almost empty. Soon the passengers—the “special cargo”, paid for by their new government—would arrive, and then hopefully the Dynastics would be out of their fur before long.

“You don’t think Kry—”

“Don’t even mention it.” Fox’s claws scraped the plastic. “Don’t even say her name. I don’t want to be reminded.”

“But—”

“No buts, you understand me? You remember the screams, the fear we all felt. I want to forget it all, but I cannot if you keep reminding me!”

“Fox, please, that was—”

“Years ago? Don’t even think about it. Who do you think started this war, give me a guess.”

Falco looked surprised. “The Dynasty, of cou—” 

“No “of courses”, there is no “of course” about it! Have you ever wondered that maybe, just maybe, that we are the bad guys?”

“You mean like Andross?”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.”

“Um… I… never considered it. C’mon, man, that’s ancient histo—”

“That’s patriotism speaking. Listen to me, Falco, you’d best forget it. We are under Andross now, not ourselves. And, frankly, I’m glad we are. I’m glad our every move is being watched. I take comfort in that. You know why? Because that means the humans are also being watched, perhaps just as much as we are.”

“Well… yeah, they have to be, the Dominion would be mad no—”

“Aren’t we all mad?”

Falco was alarmed now. “Fox, please, listen to yourself. How could we have known? How could anyone? She swore nothing like that would happen again.”

Fox bowed his head. “And for that I bear the blood of trillions on my conscience.”

“Then why didn’t you confess?”

“Because I like my worthless hide intact.”

“You are impossible, I don’t know why I bothered talking to you.” Falco stood and started to leave. “You’ll know where to find us,” he called as he departed.

_ Yeah, I’ll know where to find you, _ Fox thought with morbid humor.  _ In the bar, trying to wash the memory away. _

Yet, in spite of his loathing, he still wanted to find her. To reassure her that everything she had done, no matter how morally bankrupt, was not in vain. Even if she was a gibbering, disease-ridden wreck of a whore, he would still find her.

And he would kill her. For all of their sakes.

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

* * *

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> [†] “His language is pretty.”  
[‡] “Yes, I am here, my love.”


End file.
